Rosemary Rose
Rosemary rose,
Nature sure gave you such a beautiful nose.
though youre not beautiful as someone would know,
That rosemary rose,
Has eyes of blue,
And someone is treasuring a picture of you,
Taken on a holiday when you were just three,
My sweet rosemary.
You look nothing like a child,
Yet youre such a little baby.
Chewing on your liquorish gum, and cigarettes.
Rosemary rose,
Carefully sewing on your buttons and bows.
Hoping that someone will be wanting to know,
Of rosemary rose.
You look nothing like a child,
Yet youre such a little baby.
Chewing on your liquorish gum, and cigarettes.
Rosemary rose,
Carefully sewing on your buttons and bows.
Hoping that someone will be wanting to know,
Of rosemary rose.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Rosemary
Give the Rose to Mary and call her Rosemary,
For her love is as lovely as the rose.
Rosemary, you are all that brings the roses of love to me;
And i will always smell the sweet aroma of your rose.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Rosemary
THERE was a long path through the fern,—
O Rosemary, dost thou not know?
A silver maple at the turn,
A little gate below.
There was a youth, there was a maid,
She in the light, he in the shade,
When all the world was fair to see,—
O Rosemary, O Rosemary!
There was a briar by the wall,—
O Rosemary, hast thou forgot?
A slender, tender hand and small,
Stained with a crimson spot.
There was a little cry of pain,
Two heads bent low, then raised again;
And all the sun seemed poured on me,—
O Rosemary, O Rosemary!
There came a sail upon the bay,—
O Rosemary, didst thou foreknow?
Two blue eyes wandered far away,
Two cheeks were all aglow:—
A sail which neared and grew until
It cast a heart in shadow chill;
When someone's ship came in from sea,—
O Rosemary, O Rosemary!
poem by Abbie Farwell Brown from The New England Magazine / Volume 23, Issue 3 (1897)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
Ragetty Doll
Rosemary has of dolls a dozen,
Yet she disdains them all;
While Marie Rose, her pauper cousin
Has just an old rag doll.
But you should see her mother it,
And with her kisses smother it.
A twist of twill, a hank of hair,
Fit for the rubbish bin;
How Rosemary with scorn would stare
At its pathetic grin!
Yet Marie Rose can lover it,
And with her kisses cover it.
Rosemary is a pampered pet;
She sniffs a dainty nose
Of scorn at ragged dolls, and yet
My love's with Marie Rose,
In garret corner shy and sweet,
With rag doll Marguerite.
Though kin they are, a gulf will grow
Between them with the years;
For one a life of love will know,
The other toil and tears:
Perhaps that shabby rag doll knows
The rue of Marie Rose.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Stealing Rosemary
If you need me
Ill be here
On my knees
On my knees
In the neighbors garden
Where the light is growing long
Stealing rosemary for you, my love
Its the tiny lies I tell
For you to please
You to please
Early in the morning
When the light is growing strong
Stealing rosemary for you, my love
Im stealing rosemary
Flowers crushing on my skin
Tuscan blue
All for you
Caught in rain and running
Home to you
Im coming home
Stealing rosemary for you, my love
Im stealing rosemary for you, my love
Stealing rosemary
song performed by by Bangles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Goodbye Dick
Goodbye dick, goodbye dick.
But I saw you walkin the white house lawn.
Goodbye dick, goodbye dick.
Goodbye rosemary, goodbye rosemary.
I saw you take your typewriter out of the white house door
No one wants you to type here anymore
Goodbye rosemary, goodbye rosemary.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Scarborough Fair
===================================
Simon & Garfunkel - Scarborough Fair
===================================
(3:52) Read the song on which this is based!
P. Simon/A. Garfunkel, 1966
Released on Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme
Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine
Tell her to make me a cambric shirt
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
Without no seam nor needlework
Then she'll be a true love of mine
Tell her to find me an acre of land
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
Between the salt water and the sea strand
Then she'll be a true love of mine
Tell her to reap it in a sickle of leather
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
And to gather it all in a bunch of heather
Then she'll be a true love of mine
Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine
song performed by by Simon & Garfunkel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Rose Of London
She now lays in the cemetery though life for her was hell
And her life a tragic story though that story I must tell
She migrated to here from London in nineteen fifty two
When she was only twenty brown haired with eyes of blue.
She was known as Rose of London Rosemary was her name
A car accident in her early fifties had left her slightly lame
And in that tragic accident her husband Jim and their daughter died
Her happy life until then by cruel fate was destroyed.
Her husband Jim was fifty two and Ann their only child was twenty three
But Rosemary put her misfortune behind her and she overcame her tragedy
And she soldiered on bravely though her cross heavy to bear
Still the broken dreams of her life even time could not repair.
I often see her at the superstore she always wore the brightest clothes
Her silver hair and lovely face she did look like a rose
With her beautiful cockney accent she was cheerful and free of guile
And she would win the heart of Satan with the warmth of her smile.
In her battle with cancer poor Rose did not win through
Still she was a noble person and her equals all too few
Pre-deceased by her nearest and her dearest she battled on till the end
She was loved by many people and I miss her as a friend.
A kind hearted cockney lady and she wore the brightest clothes
She was known as Rose of London and she surely was a rose
She lost her nearest and her dearest and her's was a painful end
But she was admired by many and I loved her as a friend.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Essential Oils—are wrung
675
Essential Oils—are wrung—
The Attar from the Rose
Be not expressed by Suns—alone—
It is the gift of Screws—
The General Rose—decay—
But this—in Lady's Drawer
Make Summer—When the Lady lie
In Ceaseless Rosemary—
poem by Emily Dickinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Scarborough Fair / Canticle
Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary & thyme
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine
Tell her to make me a cambric shirt
(On the side of a hill in the deep forest green)
Parsely, sage, rosemary & thyme
(Tracing a sparrow on snow-crested ground)
Without no seams nor needlework
(Blankets and bedclothes a child of the mountains)
Then she'll be a true love of mine
(Sleeps unaware of the clarion call)
Tell her to find me an acre of land
(On the side of a hill, a sprinkling of leaves)
Parsely, sage, rosemary, & thyme
(Washed is the ground with so many tears)
Between the salt water and the sea strand
(A soldier cleans and polishes a gun)
Then she'll be a true love of mine
Tell her to reap it in a sickle of leather
(War bellows, blazing in scarlet battalions)
Parsely, sage, rosemary & thyme
(Generals order their soldiers to kill)
And to gather it all in a bunch of heather
(And to fight for a cause they've long ago forgotten)
Then she'll be a true love of mine
Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary & thyme
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine
song performed by by Simon & Garfunkel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Rosemary
Rosemarys the kind of girl
Who need no reason
Shes the kind that just wont
Settle down
Rose are out of season
Shell be done for treason
Shell be hanging from a tree
Upside down
Fever, fever
Where you tryin to run
Fever, diva
Rosemary is not done
Well...
Rosemarys the kind
Tired of her beauty
She has taken all her
Barriers down
So you best believe her
The girl will give you fever
Shes the kind to heat you up
And cool you down
Fever, fever
Where you tryin to run
Fever, diva
Rosemary...
Shes not done
Not done
Done
song performed by by Gomez
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Transcendental Rose
The year’s first transcendental rose
stands where the self-sown apple grows.
No pride at being first is shown
nor discontent at standing there alone.
Among the rosemary and gorse
it is its own and only source.
poem by Brian Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Flowers
I will not have the mad Clytie,
Whose head is turned by the sun;
The tulip is a courtly queen,
Whom, therefore, I will shun;
The cowslip is a country wench,
The violet is a nun; -
But I will woo the dainty rose,
The queen of everyone.
The pea is but a wanton witch,
In too much haste to wed,
And clasps her rings on every hand
The wolfsbane I should dread; -
Nor will I dreary rosemary
That always mourns the dead; -
But I will woo the dainty rose,
With her cheeks of tender red.
The lily is all in white, like a saint,
And so is no mate for me -
And the daisy's cheek is tipped with blush,
She is of such low degree;
Jasmine is sweet, and has many loves,
And the broom's betrothed to the bee; -
But I will plight with the dainty rose,
For fairest of all is she.
poem by Thomas Hood
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Vers Demode
For one, the amaryllis and the rose;
The poppy, sweet as never lilies are;
The ripen'd vine, that beckons as it blows;
The dancing star.
For one, the trodden rosemary and rue;
The bowl, dipt ever in the purple stream
And, for the other one, a fairer due-
Sleep, and no dream.
poem by Dorothy Parker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Simpleton on the ropes
This innocent lacklustre who works in a farm earns a little and out of that he gives equal shares to his poor loving mother and a girl who pretends as his fiancée.
He dreams of their future soon build a cottage and have a child devote his entire life for them.
One equinox he received a letter very light from the city.
“Hi! My dear I joined the Jamboree here
Yours ever love Rosemary.”
Exactly after a fortnight he received another letter lighter than earlier.
“Hi! My dear the Jamboree is over and accidentally I found a boy.
Sorry, I am your unfortunate Rosemary.”
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Why Didnt Rosemary
Theres a black hill
We had a climb
Everything I need but nothings mine
Satans world, Ive had a kill
Why didnt rosemary ever take the pill?
Lying there waiting, waiting for the kill
Oh man wont do it, but the devil will
Im losing time and my mind
Why cant I ever have whats naturally mine?
I got life and the things that go with it
If theres something else, where can I get it?
Lying there waiting, waiting for the kill
Oh man wont do it, but the devil will
Well heres my views, I always lose
Things I want to do are yesterdays news
Say lifes a ball, Ive had it all
Out there in another dance hall
Lying there waiting, waiting for the kill
Oh man wont do it, but the devil will
Take me as I am, an excuse for a man
Wherever I push someone stops my hand
As a matter of interest, tell me if you will
Why didnt rosemary ever take the pill?
Lying there waiting, waiting for the kill
Oh man wont do it, but the devil will
Oh, why wont rosemary ever take the pill?
song performed by by Deep Purple
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Kin To Sorrow
Am I kin to Sorrow,
That so oft
Falls the knocker of my door——
Neither loud nor soft,
But as long accustomed,
Under Sorrow's hand?
Marigolds around the step
And rosemary stand,
And then comes Sorrow—
And what does Sorrow care
For the rosemary
Or the marigolds there?
Am I kin to Sorrow?
Are we kin?
That so oft upon my door—
Oh, come in!
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Key Of The Street
"Miss Rosemary," I dourly said,
"Our balance verges on the red,
We must cut down our overhead.
One of the staff will have to go.
There's Mister Jones, he's mighty slow,
Although he does his best, I know.
"A deer old man; I like him well,
But age, alas! will always tell.
Miss Rosemary, please ring the bell
And tell old Jones to step this way . . .
Oh dear, oh dear, it isn't gay
To say the things I have to say.
"Come in and sit down, Mister Jones."
He thanks me in sepulchral tones.
Poor chap! I hear his creaking bones.
"Have a cigar? And how's your wife?
What's that! You're fearing for her life -
A cancer and the surgeon's knife. . . .
"Yes, operations are so dear,
But it's your comfort and your cheer
To know your job's so steady here."
These are his words; so meek and mild,
He looks just like a simple child . . .
Go! darn it! Suddenly I'm riled.
And so I say: "That's just too bad.
But Mister Jones. it's very sad,
You know what losses we have had.
We must cut down in times like these,
So here's a cheque, Oh take it please -
'Twill help to pay your doctor's fees.
"And just to show how I appraise
Your work - despite these doleful days
I'm giving you . . . a little raise."
Said Rosemary: "Old Jones is crying."
Thought I: "Yes, each week I'll be sighing,
When from my pocket I am prying
Ten bucks to keep his wife from dying."
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Rosemary
Beauty and Beauty's son and rosemary -
Venus and Love, her son, to speak plainly -
born of the sea supposedly,
at Christmas each, in company,
braids a garland of festivity.
Not always rosemary -
since the flight to Egypt, blooming indifferently.
With lancelike leaf, green but silver underneath,
its flowers - white originally -
turned blue. The herb of memory,
imitating the blue robe of Mary,
is not too legendary
to flower both as symbol and as pungency.
Springing from stones beside the sea,
the height of Christ when he was thirty-three,
it feeds on dew and to the bee
"hath a dumb language"; is in reality
a kind of Christmas tree.
poem by Marianne Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Rose With Thorns
The rose with thorns
Beautiful passion red rose
But dangerous with thorns
Picked off the garden
By a bard on
Realize he was bleeding
Thought roughly about his feelings
About why the rose had thorns
Never again would he pick up the red rose with thorns
The rose only brought him pain
Thoe he did not go insane
By wanting to stomp on it
But he just forfeit on it
He just let the rose there on the ground
And the rose was hoping it would be found
So the bard on
Left the garden
Checked his finger with the thorn pulled it out
finger was bleeding and never looked back at the rose with the thorns
poem by Jose antonio Torres galeana
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!