For a Present of Roses
Crimson and cream and white -
My room is a garden of roses!
Centre and left and right,
Three several splendid posies.
As the sender is, they are sweet,
These lovely gifts of your sending,
With the stifling summer heat
Their delicate fragrance blending.
What more can my heart desire?
Has it lost the power to be grateful?
Is it only a burnt-out fire,
Whose ashes are dull and hateful?
Yet still to itself it doth say,
`I should have loved far better
To have found, coming in to-day,
The merest scrap of a letter.'
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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Venus in the Garden
'Twas at early morning,
The dawn was blushing in her purple bed,
When in a sweet, embowered garden
She, the fairest of the goddesses,
The lovely Venus,
Roamed amongst the roses white and red.
She sought for flowers
To make a garland
For her golden head.
Snow-white roses, blood-red roses,
In that sweet garden close,
Offered incense to the goddess:
Both the white and the crimson rose.
White roses, red roses, blossoming:
But the fair Venus knew
The crimson roses had gained their hue
From the hearts that for love had bled;
And the goddess made a garland
Gathered from the roses red.
poem by James Weldon Johnson
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Roses For You
Like a caged bird, rooted still by thorny briar
To kiss the very centre of pleasure’s fire,
The queen of beauty unfolds to caress mine eyes
Tis nature’s flaming red wonder that never dies,
Nay you live joyous in many a fair maidens cheek
As now my joy on the happiness plane doth peak,
So my beauty pieces of thee I snip oh rosy queen
For my love will know to the rose garden I’ve been.
My wages handsomely paid by your golden smile
A kiss then joy as you pose and enhance the posies
Red roses, yellow and white by a mile beguile
An’ life is I hope coming up as...for everything’s roses
poem by Ken e Hall
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Winter Sunset
Roses in the sky,
Roses in the sea
Bowers of scarlet sky-roses
Take my heart and me.
God was good to make,
This December weather,
All this sky a rose-garden,
Rose and fire together.
To the East are burning
Roses in a garden,
Roses in a rosy field,
Hesper for their warden.
Yonder to the West
Roses all afire,
Mirror now some rare splendid
Rose of their desire.
Pulsing deeper, deeper,
Waves of fire throb on,
Never were such red roses
At sunset or dawn.
Roses on the hills,
Roses in the hollow,
Roses on the wet hedges,
In the shining fallow.
West wind, blow and blow!
That has blown ajar
Gates of God's great rose-garden,
Where His Angels are,
Gathering up the rose-leaves
For a shower of roses
On the night the Lord Babe
His sweet eye uncloses.
All the sky is scarlet
Flaming on the azure.
O, there's fire in Heaven
My heart aches with pleasure.
Leagues of rose and scarlet,
Roses red as blood:
All the world's a rose-garden.
God is good, is good.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Roses crimson, roses white
`Roses crimson, roses white,
Deadly pale or lovely blushing,
Both in love with May at sight,
And their maiden blood is rushing
To and fro in hope to hide
Tumult it but thus discloses.
Bring the Bridegroom to the Bride!
Everywhere are roses, roses.'
`Every wall is white with roses
`Every wall is white with roses,
Linnets pair in every tree;
Brim your beakers, twine your posies,
Kiss and quaff ere Springtime closes;
Bloom and beauty quickly flee.'
`Nay, let me sleep, or, best, be stone or steel
`Nay, let me sleep, or, best, be stone or steel,
While still endures this infamy of woe.
My one sole bliss is nor to see nor feel:
So, wake me not; and, lest you should, speak low.'
poem by Alfred Austin
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At Night
Summer is not quite fulfilled
until a campfire night
Though my hair is filled with
ashes and smoke
and quite a nasty smell.
I wonder how my fire’s doing
I left it all alone
The embers’ heat were fading
into ashes like my soul.
My heart once beat a lovely tune
‘Love’ it sang and played.
But reality has struck me hard
and I do not feel the same.
poem by D.M.L. Catseye
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In The Love Garden
In the garden where Love
Could be found
I found a beautiful Princess
Whose Love I share.
Inside the garden where Roses
Could be found
I found a mighty Angel
Whose Love is mine
Within the garden where Love
Could be found
I found a white Flower
Whose beauty is that of a bride
Between the garden where Love
Could be found
I found a mighty princess Diana
Whose heart I share
Underneath the garden where Love
Could be found
I found a charming Diamond
Whose charm is that of my Love
And
Outside the garden where Love
Could be found
I found me a Lover
Whose heart is mine!
And
Inside the garden where Love
Could be found
I found me a pen
And write this lovely ballad for my babe!
poem by Olawale Idowu
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Only Roses
To a garden full of posies
Cometh one to gather flowers;
And he wanders through its bowers
Toying with the wanton roses,
Who, uprising from their beds,
Hold on high their shameless heads
With their pretty lips a-pouting,
Never doubting - never doubting
That for Cytherean posies
He would gather aught but roses.
In a nest of weeds and nettles,
Lay a violet, half hidden;
Hoping that his glance unbidden
Yet might fall upon her petals.
Though she lived alone, apart,
Hope lay nestling at her heart,
But, alas! the cruel awaking
Set her little heart a-breaking,
For he gathered for his posies
Only roses - only roses!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Yellow Roses
Hello you said the day we met
Handing me a yellow rose
You asked me out
And to your surprise
And to mine I said Id go
I thought it so romantic
And I found you sweet and bold
Though wed only met
I still said yes
To a single yellow rose
And for years to come
You were the one
To sleep with me at night
To laugh and talk
And share my thoughts
And hold me when Id cry
And on every occasion
And for no good reason to
A big bouquet or a single yellow rose
Was sent from you
Chorus:
Yellow roses
The color of sunshine
You loved me at one time
Why did you have to go
Yellow roses
Are you sending your new love
My bright yellow rose buds
I still love you so
I never see a yellow rose
That I didnt think of you
Its still my favorite flower
Though the yellows turned to blue
The day you left my teardrops fell
Upon your farewell not
You said goodbye like you said hello
With a single yellow rose
Chorus:
Yellow roses
The color of sunshine
You loved me at one time
Why did you have to go
Yellow roses
Are you sending your new love
My bright yellow rose buds
Oh I still love you so
Yellow roses
The color of sunshine
You loved me at one time
Why did you have to go
Sweet yellow roses
Are you sending your new love
My bright yellow rose buds
I still love you so
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Lovely Rose
I have a rose in the garden,
Unfolding red lovely petals,
With thorns surrounding it,
Could not touch and smell its fragrance.
I left the garden,
I left my lovely rose,
Far away yet so near,
Could not touch and smell its fragrance.
Time have passed,
Have seen again my rose,
Beautiful and sweetly scented at its full blossom,
Could not touch and smell its fragrance.
My rose is not mine anymore,
Yet I let my rose feel
Thy undoubting care and heart rejoicing,
Could glimpse again my lovely rose.
poem by Dong Agosto
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Little White Rose
Little white rose that I loved, I loved,
Roisin ban, Roisin ban!
Fair my bud as the morning's dawn.
I kissed my beautiful flower to bloom,
My heart grew glad for its rich perfume—
Little white rose that I loved!
Little white rose that I loved grew red,
Roisin rua, Roisin rua!
Passionate tears I wept for you.
Love is more sweet than the world's fame—
I dream you back in my heart the same,
Little white rose that I loved!
Little white rose that I loved grew black,
Roisin duv, Roisin duv!
So I knew not the heart of you.
Lost in the world's alluring fire,
I cry in the night for my heart's desire,
Little white rose that I loved!
poem by Dora Sigerson Shorter
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From The Portuguese
I
When I lived in the village of youth
There were lilies in all the orchards,
Flowers in the orange-gardens
For brides to wear in their hair.
It was always sunshine and summer,
Roses at every lattice,
Dreams in the eyes of maidens,
Love in the eyes of men.
When I lived in the village of youth
The doors, all the doors, stood open;
We went in and out of them laughing,
Laughing and calling each other
To shew each other our fairings,
The new shawl, the new comb, the new fan,
The new rose, the new lover.
Now I live in the town of age
Where are no orchards, no gardens.
Here, too, all the doors stand open,
But no one goes in or goes out.
We sit alone by the hearthstone
Where memories lie like ashes
Upon a hearth that is cold;
And they from the village of youth
Run by our doorsteps laughing,
Calling, to shew each other
The new shawl, the new comb, the new fan,
The new rose, the new lover.
Once we had all these things -
We kept them from the old people,
And now the young people have them
And will not shew them to us -
To us who are old and have nothing
But the white, still, heaped-up ashes
On the hearth where the fire went out
A very long time ago.
II
I had a mistress; I loved her.
She left me with memories bitter,
Corroding, eating my heart
As the acid eats into the steel
Etching the portrait triumphant.
Intolerable, indelible,
Never to be effaced.
A wife was mine to my heart,
Beautiful flower of my garden,
Lily I worshipped by day,
Scented rose of my nights.
Now the night wind sighing
Blows white rose petals only
Over the bed where she sleeps
Dreamless alone.
I had a son; I loved him.
Mother of God, bear witness
How all my manhood loved him
As thy womanhood loved thy Son!
When he was grown to his manhood
He crucified my heart,
And even as it hung bleeding
He laughed with his bold companions,
Mocked and turned away
With laughter into the night.
Those three I loved and lost;
But there was one who loved me
With all the fire of her heart.
Mine was the sacred altar
Where she burnt her life for my worship.
She was my slave, my servant;
Mine all she had, all she was,
All she could suffer, could be.
That was the love of my life,
I did not say, 'She loves me';
I was so used to her love
I never asked its name,
Till, feeling the wind blow cold
Where all the doors were left open,
And seeing a fireless hearth
And the garden deserted and weed-grown
That once was full of flowers for me,
I said, 'What has changed? What is it
That has made all the clocks stop?'
Thus I asked and they answered:
'It is thy mother who is dead.'
And now I am alone.
My son, too, some day will stand
Here, where I stand and weep.
He too will weep, knowing too late
The love that wrapped round his life.
Dear God spare him this:
Let him never know how I loved him,
For he was always weak.
He could not endure as I can.
Mother, my dear, ask God
To grant me this, for my son!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Less’er Love, And A Rose, In My Garden
I am gardener…. I prune, sheer… at times
…at times I have lesser love
And in less is more, very much more
…………….and there is this garden
..the garden, ours by the Grace of the Life Force, supreme God
..there is this Rose, and those Roses there… all chose a place to be
I, the Gardner choose the blooms from which Rose goes to the glass next my bed
I love this Rose, and less but similar those other
….they decide when to bloom
In sping late winter their souls weep, as I sheer, as I must
In spring and summer and early winter we rejoice as they bloom abundantly
…..every night one bloom from The Rose that’ad also chosen me
in the glass of water next my bed read to me, and comfort me
the delicate-, bewitching fragrance the bookmark for tomorrow night
I love that Rose as my chosen
I am gardener…. I prune, sheer… at times
…..only one Rose reads to me… I a lesser Gardener
Lesser, cause I’m only able t’love one Rose…..this Rose here
….those Roses there, some’r lessor Roses, some’r superior Roses, are my friends
Lesser in texture, shape and fiber and fragrance
Some superior in texture, or shape and or fiber and or fragrance
Friends equal in dimension with the Rose, but less in love than the Rose
…..every night one bloom from The Rose, that’s chosen me
in the glass of water next my bed read to me, and comfort me
the delicate-, bewitching fragrance the bookmark for tomorrow night
I love that Rose as my chosen
I, the gardener…. I prune, sheer…. at times
These other Roses who chose my garden
...so valuable in a muchness o’ Friendship,
…the quality their love much the same as that The Rose
Different the lesser my love, even though my caring equals that towards The Rose
We are blessed, those of us in the garden
…the magnificence of this garden in my life is the sumtotal of you all in my garden
I drink your fragrance intoxicated with love
I love The Rose, and my friends these other Roses in the garden Bless this love
poem by Johan Fourie
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The Romaic Song
I enter thy garden of roses,
Beloved and fair Haidée,
Each morning where Flora reposes,
For surely I see her in thee.
Oh, Lovely! thus low I implore thee,
Receive this fond truth from my tongue,
Which utters its song to adore thee,
Yet trembles for what it has sung;
As the branch, at the bidding of Nature,
Adds fragrance and fruit to the tree,
Through her eyes, through her every feature,
Shines the soul of the young Haidée.
But the loveliest garden grows hateful
When Love has abandon'd the bowers;
Bring me hemlock - since mine is ungrateful,
That herb is more fragrant than flowers.
The poison, when pour 'd from the chalice,
Will deeply embitter the bowl;
But when drunk to escape from thy malice,
The draught shall be sweet to my soul.
Too cruel! in vain I implore thee
My heart from these horrors to save:
Will nought to my bosom restore thee?
Then open the gates of the grave.
As the chief who to combat advances
Secure of his conquest before,
Thus thou, with those eyes for thy lances,
Halt pierced through my heart to its core.
Ah, tell me, my soul! must I perish
By pangs which a smile would dispel?
Would the hope, which thou once bad'st me cherish,
For torture repay me too well?
Now sad is the garden of roses,
Beloved but false Haidée!
There Flora all wither'd reposes,
And mourns o'er thing absence with me.
song, translated by Byron
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Rose Garden
I watched you in your
garden,
Roses growing every-
where.
Flowers were so lovely,
Perfume filled the air.
Touching them so
gently,
Creating a bouquet,
Tieing yellow
ribbons,
So they would'nt blow
away.
As I left the garden,
On that summer day
I turned and looked
once more,
Then slowly walked
away.
I admire your lovely
garden,
So happy I would be,
If I were the rosebud,
You touched so
tenderly.
poem by Heather Burns
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Sonet LIV
O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem
By that sweet ornament which truth doth give!
The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
For that sweet odour which doth in it live.
The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye
As the perfumed tincture of the roses,
Hang on such thorns and play as wantonly
When summer's breath their masked buds discloses:
But, for their virtue only is their show,
They live unwoo'd and unrespected fade,
Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so;
Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made:
And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth,
When that shall fade, my verse distills your truth.
poem by William Shakespeare
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A Sweet Peal
Her beauty and her love lay on the bed,
Of her sweet peal of the glowing lovely breasts;
The kisses of this night will always be remembered.
She is delicate, soft and intense;
Mixed with fresh odour from her muse,
And like the sweet peal anew on a hot summer night.
The sprout of love in her room and,
In her garden of love i do sleep all night;
And of her joy in the light of the gentle sun,
But the sensitive plant in her garden of love matters to me.
Of the power of love in this sweet place,
And of her sweet peal of the glowing lovely breasts;
But like young lovers filled with the mutual atmosphere.
Alone in this sweet glory land,
And of her love like a sea-flower unfold;
But naked and bare from the frozen air,
And so pleasant to a taste if one considers it.
The lady's gentle mind,
And of where nothing is but all seems to be well;
Cold and foul and deep and low!
Lonely as a deep sleep on the blue surface of love;
And woken with the summer dreams of love,
Oh my sweet wide west-wind!
Come closer to us to take us afar.
The blue Mediterranean where she lay is the love of hope,
And of the horizon of her love to the zenith's height!
And like the locks of the approaching storm to meet at last.
For her love is in the beauty of her delight,
Heavy and very slow to the muse that muses;
But her beauty and her love lay bare on the bed,
And like black rains and white rains!
But i will kiss her until she's worn out like the spirits of the night.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Blood Red Roses
Heavens above
What on earth has this come to
What have I done
What can I do now to show you
Theres still a chance
If youre ready to make up
Its not too late
cause Im not ready to break up
I try to call
But you dont hear at all
Im sending roses
Im sending blood red roses
This burning in my heart
Is tearing me apart
Im sending roses
Im sending blood red roses
Youve got to understand
Thats my heart in your hand
Dont walk away
We can get this heart mended
Or am I the fool
And has this love just ended
I tried to call
But you dont hear at all
I gotta keep on trying
To stop this love from dying
Youve got to understand
That my heart is in your hand
Roses
Im sending blood red roses
This burning in my heart
Is tearing me apart
Im sending roses
Im sending blood red roses
Roses
Im sending blood red roses
This burning in my heart
Tears me apart
Roses - blood red roses
Youve got to understand
Thats my heart in your hand
Roses
Im sending blood red roses
cause this burning in my heart
Tears me apart
song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet 54: O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem
O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem
By that sweet ornament which truth doth give!
The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
For that sweet odour which doth in it live.
The canker blooms have full as deep a dye
As the perfumèd tincture of the roses,
Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly
When summer's breath their maskèd buds discloses;
But, for their virtue only is their show,
They live unwooed and unrespected fade,
Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so;
Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made.
And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth,
When that shall vade, by verse distills your truth.
poem by William Shakespeare
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Roses On White Lace
I saw you in your wedding gown
The prettiest dress
I came into the room that night
And made such a mess
In my own way, I lovingly kiss the bride
With your ring in your hand
Your eyes and your mouth open wide
In my eyes
Blood drops look like roses on white lace
They won't wash away
In my mind they're roses on white lace
Straight from the heart
So dead upon the bed
You hurt me in the deepest way
I'm crippled inside
I took your evil skin away
It's all cut and dried
I saw you tonight and carefully took your hand
With some smears on my cheeks
I knew that you would understand
In my eyes
Blood drops look like roses on white lace
They won't wash away
In my mind they're roses on white lace
Straight from the heart
So dead upon the bed, still searching for your head
They're never gonna find your face
It's hidden away
I found a very special place where you used to play
In my own way, I lovingly kiss the bride
With your ring in your hand
Your eyes and your mouth open wide
In my eyes
Blood drops look like roses on white lace
They won't wash away
In my mind they're roses on white lace
Straight from the heart
Blood drops look like roses on white lace
Crimson and sweet, stained on the sheet
Roses on white lace, pretty in red, dripping and wet
Roses on white lace, spilled on the walls, dark in the hall
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Iam LOVELY like a White Red,
Iam Lovely Like White and Red,
Iam Lovely Like White and Red,
These Crows that are Hateful will change to Red and White,
I hate White and Black,
But to Hit these Hateful Birds in our Stomack is Even Better,
I can see the Change in our Eyes,
To Red and White,
A Battle Prepared will never be Half Time anymore,
But a Change in Faces,
Those that Killed Christ will see a Forgiven REMEDY,
For God is LOVE in Highest REALM,
The Hateful BIRDS will change to RED AND WHITE,
A NEW WORLD ORDER EMERGES.
poem by Maxim Muyu
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