Related quotes: When the buds began to...

The Three Roses

When the buds began to burst,
Long ago, with Rose the First
I was walking; joyous then
Far above all other men,
Till before us up there stood
Britonferry's oaken wood,
Whispering, "Happy as thou art,
Happiness and thou must part."
Many summers have gone by
Since a Second Rose and I
(Rose from the same stem) have told
This and other tales of old.
She upon her wedding day
Carried home my tenderest lay:
From her lap I now have heard
Gleeful, chirping, Rose the Third.
Not for her this hand of mine
Rhyme with nuptial wreath shall twine;
Cold and torpid it must lie,
Mute the tongue, and closed the eye.

poem by Walter Savage Landor
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The Answer

A Rose, in tatters on the garden path,
Cried out to God and murmured 'gainst His Wrath,
Because a sudden wind at twilight's hush
Had snapped her stem alone of all the bush.
And God, Who hears both sun-dried dust and sun,
Had pity, whispering to that luckless one,
"Sister, in that thou sayest We did not well --
What voices heardst thou when thy petals fell?"
And the Rose answered, "In that evil hour
A voice said, `Father, wherefore falls the flower?
For lo, the very gossamers are still.'
And a voice answered, `Son, by Allah's will!'"

Then softly as a rain-mist on the sward,
Came to the Rose the Answer of the Lord:
"Sister, before We smote the dark in twain,
Ere yet the stars saw one another plain,
Time, Tide, and Space, We bound unto the task
That thou shouldst fall, and such an one should ask."
Whereat the withered flower, all content,
Died as they die whose days are innocent;
While he who questioned why the flower fell
Caught hold of God and saved his soul from Hell.

poem by Rudyard Kipling
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What A Rose Can Say

A rose can say I love you and want you to be mine,
A rose can say I thank you for being so very kind,
A rose can say congratulations, whatever the occasion may be,
A rose can say I miss you and wish you were here with me,
A rose can say I'm sorry if I've hurt you in any way,
A rose can say get well soon, May God bless you today,
A rose can say I wish you happiness, and the best for you each day.
A rose can say farewel when someone goes away,
A rose can say hello, I'm thinking of you today,
There's just so many wonderful things that a rose can say,
A rose can say goodbye when a love one is laid to rest,
No matter what there is to say, a rose can say it best.

poem by Margie Driver
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First rose

A heart of youthful year was yearning,
Crying out the pain; the burning
Tears would e’er remain until
An answer from the man would see them die.

A sympathetic mirror blessed her –
Softened up the curves, caressed her
Skin to help regain a calm –
Assuage a heaving breast and blushing eye.

And through a struggling mind, a chiming:
Someone at the door; the timing
Perfect and exquisite in the
Reconciliation of her woes.

She took the oak to make the parting,
‘Here! ’ a presentation startling.
Drawing deep through radiant lips, she
Kissed her very dream: a crimson rose.

rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Just One Rose...

that's a homework i need you to tell me if i should hand it to the teacher or not...(:

just one rose, a pretty rose...
just one rose for me with no coze...
just one rose pure and true...
just one rose for me is all i can do...

just one rose somewhere out there...
just one rose for me to care...
just one rose when dark days prevail...
just one rose when people only use petrail...

just one rose and all the time...
just one rosefor me is a crime...

poem by rose of death XxX
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The Lily Confidante

Lily! lady of the garden!
Let me press my lip to thine!
Love must tell its story, Lily!
Listen thou to mine.

Two I choose to know the secret --
Thee, and yonder wordless flute;
Dragons watch me, tender Lily,
And thou must be mute.

There's a maiden, and her name is . . .
Hist! was that a rose-leaf fell?
See, the rose is listening, Lily,
And the rose may tell.

Lily-browed and lily-hearted,
She is very dear to me;
Lovely? yes, if being lovely
Is -- resembling thee.

Six to half a score of summers
Make the sweetest of the "teens" --
Not too young to guess, dear Lily,
What a lover means.

Laughing girl, and thoughtful woman,
I am puzzled how to woo --
Shall I praise, or pique her, Lily?
Tell me what to do.

"Silly lover, if thy Lily
Like her sister lilies be,
Thou must woo, if thou wouldst wear her,
With a simple plea.

"Love's the lover's only magic,
Truth the very subtlest art;
Love that feigns, and lips that flatter,
Win no modest heart.

"Like the dewdrop in my bosom,
Be thy guileless language, youth;
Falsehood buyeth falsehood only,
Truth must purchase truth.

"As thou talkest at the fireside,
With the little children by --
As thou prayest in the darkness,
When thy God is nigh --

"With a speech as chaste and gentle,
And such meanings as become
Ear of child, or ear of angel,
Speak, or be thou dumb.

"Woo her thus, and she shall give thee
Of her heart the sinless whole,
All the girl within her bosom,
And her woman's soul."

poem by Henry Timrod
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Red, Red Rose

Red, red rose, she blew her breath
Fingers, it’s stem she caressed
Then she closed her eyes and breathed the fragrance in
Tell me red, red rose, where does love end

She placed the rose, gently against her lips
She plucked a single petal, with finger tips
And as the wind caught and carried up high
Tell me red, red rose, can love it fly

Slowly one by one, each petal fell
Upon the last in her eye, a tear it swelled
And then she sighed as she asked to her self
Tell me red, red rose, is for love, is this what’s left

Red, red rose, red, red rose
You stand for love you should know
Should we hold on tight with all our might
Must one day we let go

Red, red rose, red, red rose
Your petals fly in the breeze
If I let go, red, red rose
What becomes of me.

poem by Bill Simmons
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The Grave and The Rose

The Grave said to the Rose,
"What of the dews of dawn,
Love's flower, what end is theirs?"
"And what of spirits flown,
The souls whereon doth close
The tomb's mouth unawares?"
The Rose said to the Grave.

The Rose said, "In the shade
From the dawn's tears is made
A perfume faint and strange,
Amber and honey sweet."
"And all the spirits fleet
Do suffer a sky-change,
More strangely than the dew,
To God's own angels new,"
The Grave said to the Rose.

poem by Victor Hugo
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The Blood Red Rose

A solitary rose,
it could not understand
why it was deprived of life
by the cultivator's hand.

A solitary rose,
clutched in a mourner's fingers
waits the presenting of the flag
as the last note of "Taps" still lingers

A solitary Rose,
it could not understand
why its life was at the mercy
of the passing of this man.

A solitary Rose
wise beyond its time
is accepting of its fate
as the mourners stand in line

A solitary rose
flung upon a box of wood.
feels the sun a final time
as it is covered up for good.

Our ancestors made sacrifice
to expiate their sin.
The blood red rose, symbolic
of what flows beneath our skin.

poem by John F. McCullagh
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The Banks O'Doon

Ye flowery banks o' bonie Doon,
How can ye blume sae fair;
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae fu' o' care!

Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird
That sings upon the bough;
Thou minds me o' the happy days
When my fause luve was true.

Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird
That sings beside thy mate;
For sae I sat, and sae I sang,
And wist na o' my fate.

Aft hae I rov'd by bonie Doon,
To see the wood-bine twine,
And ilka bird sang o' its love,
And sae did I o' mine.

Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose
Frae aff its thorny tree,
And my fause luver staw the rose,
But left the thorn wi' me.

Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,
Upon a morn in June:
And sae I flourish'd on the morn,
And sae was pu'd or noon!

poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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One Rose

Rose
One Rose
Two Rose
Twelve Rose
One for each bruise

One Rose
Two Rose
Twelve Rose
One for each time you cheated

One Rose
Two Rose
Twelve Rose
One for each time you forced me

One Rose
Two Rose
Twelve Rose
One for each pointless arguement

One Rose
Two Rose
Twelve Rose
One for each crime

One Rose
Two Rose
Twelve Rose
One for each time you try to end me

One Rose
Two Rose
Twelve Rose
How many more can I live through?

poem by Lexie Night
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Just a rose.

I'm a rose, but a damaged rose. The winds have torn my peddles and my color has faded. I've broken my stem through these uncontrolable storms, But a rose that has been picked and fiddled with. A rose who has learned to grow it's thorns, but a rose without it's bush.A rose that still has yet to say 'I've survived' this grassless dirt spreaded field.I'm a rose, just a damaged faded rose.

poem by Ashley Derenda
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Where Your First Rose?

Someone use to remember loved once after many years (first rose-First love) that we never forget. Looking for it again hence nothing can accomplishes first love. Time has changed every things...
____________________________________ ______________________

Where your first rose?

Where your first rose?
I know you looking for it
But you cannot find...

Where your first rose?
I know you having forget it
Somewhere that you don’t know...

Where your first rose?
Hiding some where
You cannot ever reach...

Where your first rose?
Beneath someone heart
That you don’t know the person...

Where your first rose?
That cherish for ever
You forget to rescue it...

Where your first rose?
That you need to smell it
But you didn’t...

Where your first rose?
Smell like angels perfume
You once smell...

Where your first rose?
That you looking every where
Run away from you...

Where your first rose?
That born together in every soul
But you chased away...

Where your first rose?
That gives you happiness
Forever and forever...

Where your first rose?
That you kissed it every day
When you have it...

Where your first rose?
That you still looking for it
After many years left by...

Where your first rose?
That gives you every thing
Warm, happiness and true love...

Where your first rose?
That only dedicated you
By a true angel on earth...

Where your first rose?
You will have it never
Again with jealous eyes...

Where your first rose?
That gives to you
Behalf of true love...

Where your first rose?
That’s become a disappear
After you say no...

Where your first rose?
That has an ocean deep of value
You value it forever...

Where your first rose?
Away from you now
That’s you call every day...

Where your first rose?
You call by dreams
But really cannot touch...

Where your first rose?
You call by name
But didn’t hear your voice...

Where your first rose?
Whispering with you
Every nights and days...

Where your first rose?
That sung a songs ever nights
To lullaby...

Where your first rose?
That you don’t know

where its still...

That’s with me

By
O.W.Palitha Ariyarathna
Copyright, O.W. Palitha Ariyarathna.2010
All Rights Reserved By Author: 2010

poem by Palitha Ariyarathna
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The Quip

The merry World did on a day
With his train-bands and mates agree
To meet together where I lay,
And all in sport to jeer at me.

First Beauty crept into a rose,
Which when I pluck'd not, "Sir," said she,
"Tell me, I pray, whose hands are those?"
But Thou shalt answer, Lord, for me.

Then Money came, and chinking still,
"What tune is this, poor man?" said he;
"I heard in music you had skill:"
But Thou shalt answer, Lord, for me.

Then came brave Glory puffing by
In silks that whistled, who but he?
He scarce allow'd me half an eye:
But Thou shalt answer, Lord, for me.

Then came quick Wit and Conversation,
And he would needs a comfort be,
And, to be short, make an oration:
But Thou shalt answer, Lord, for me.

Yet when the hour of Thy design
To answer these fine things shall come,
Speak not at large, say, I am Thine;
And then they have their answer home.

poem by George Herbert
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The Rose #2

She was only 21-when her fiancés life
Was taken with a gun.
They had three years together
And life was getting so much better.
They had plans for a wedding in June
But it ended much too soon.

He had given her a long stem rose
Then he fell to one knee, and did propose.
She took the rose and with loving tender care
With her diary she would share.

She took the rose and cut the stem
And she knew his love would never end.
She knew with time this flower would wither
And die- and that it was a love between he and I.
So she got the silica gel, And preserved the
Rose very well.

She put it into a plastic bag
and vacuumed out all the air.
Then put it into her diary
Where only she could see.

They said it was a down right shame
That he was in the middle of a shootout
Between two rival gangs.
That was when he lost his life
Before she became his loving wife.

As the tears rolled down her eyes
She started to visualize
Of how her wedding day would have been
Had he not been in the wrong place
At the wrong time.
Their life would have turned out fine.

As she placed the rose upon the diary page
Growing inside of her was a sense of rage.
Why can life be so cruel, and people so full of hate?

But looking at the rose, her heart started to melt
Relieving her of all the anger she felt.
Their love for each other was “ oh so pure”
Of a happy life together she was sure.

Life can be comical, and you never know
What it will bring.
But she got pregnant doing her thing.

Then one night when she fell asleep
Into her mind he did creep
And told her these words:
Now you have three things I left behind
My love, a rose, and a child of mine.

When she awoke, she knew he did not die in vain
For he left a part of himself to relieve her pain.

poem by Louis Rams
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Rose, Rose(by Henrry Zhou)

Rose, Rose
Love you, without words.
When I touch your waist,
Close to your lips.

Rose, Rose
Kisses are what you send to me.
Endless mythical dream
Every kiss seems to be

Rose, rose
Aren’t you the waves of the red wine
Of the first night in a wedding?
In your soft heart
slipped the lovers’ laughs and tears.

Love you, Rose
Light vortex, pink whorls
full of a garden I wish to plant Roses
Even waking to be a sad nightmare
Still I will hold you.
O, Rose, my dear Rose

poem by Henrry Zhou
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The Rose as a Sign

The rose breaks
Off from its branch
And hits the cold ground.
The wind picks it up
And blows the rose
A great distance away.
The rose travels even
Farther as it is carried
On through its brillant journey.
The rose lands at a girls
Feet and is picked up.
The girl asked for a sign
To keep her from running
Away from home and
The rose was her sign to stay.

poem by Tracey Wynn
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Solace

There was a rose that faded young;
I saw its shattered beauty hung
Upon a broken stem.
I heard them say, "What need to care
With roses budding everywhere?"
I did not answer them.

There was a bird, brought down to die;
They said, "A hundred fill the sky-
What reason to be sad?"
There was a girl, whose lover fled;
I did not wait, the while they said,
"There's many another lad."

poem by Dorothy Parker
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On Love And Beauty: I: To A Promessa Sposa

Look on this flower, which, from its little tree
Of bodily stem and branches and leaves green,
Leans lovelier, being toucht, and smelt, and seen
A Rose, a Rose, a Rose! and, though thy three
Senses praise it triply unto thee,
And all their parlous difference intervene,
Yet unto thee, who knowest what they mean,
Thee who art one, and hast been, and shalt be,
Is one as thou; one Rose, one beauteous Rose,
One rosy Beauty. Who shall reason why
The slow stem, on a sudden season, shows
It can be worm unto this butterfly?
We know but this, that when yon ecstasy
Transfigures the green tree, its time of fruit is nigh.

poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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The Blood Rose...

There is a rose laying on the ground,
Blood is running out of the rose.
The rose's colour began to fade until it was a pale gray.
This only took around ten minutes.

The rose was pale, cold and dead.
The rose was found by a young man who was walking by.
He wondered why the rose was cold and gray.
He found another one a few days later.

What he didn't know was that the roses represented the broken hearts of teenage girls.
The roses wer originally blood red, only fading to grey when her heart was broken.
The roses were later known as the Blood Rose.

poem by MaddiiAnne O'Leary
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Ye Flowery Banks (Bonie Doon)

Ye flowery banks o' bonnie Doon,
How can ye blume sae fair?
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae fu' o' care?

Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird,
That sings upon the bough;
Thou minds me o' the happy days,
When my false love was true.

Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird,
That sings beside thy mate;
For sae I sat, and sae I sang,
And wist na o' my fate.

Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon
To see the wood-bine twine,
And ilka bird sang o' its luve,
And sae did I o' mine.

Wi' lightsome heart I pulled a rose
Frae aff its thorny tree;
And my false luver stole my rose
But left the thorn wi' me.

poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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