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[ Also see Flowers Musk Roses Plants Sweetbrier Roses Wild Roses ]

She wore a wreath of roses,
  The night that first we met.
      - Thomas Haynes Bayly (Bayley),
        She Wore a Wreath of Roses

The rose that all are praising
  Is not the rose for me.
      - Thomas Haynes Bayly (Bayley),
        The Rose That all are Praising

Go pretty rose, go to my fair,
  Go tell her all I fain would dare,
    Tell her of hope; tell her of spring,
      Tell her of all I fain would sing,
        Oh! were I like thee, so fair a thing.
      - Michael Beverly, Go Pretty Rose

Let us crown ourselves with rosebuds before they wither.
      - Bible, Wisdom of Solomon (Apocrypha)
         (ch. II, v. 8)

He that plants thorns must never expect to gather roses.
      - Bidpai (Pilpay), The Ignorant Physician
         (fable viii)

There is no gathering the rose without being pricked by the thorns.
      - Bidpai (Pilpay), The Two Travellers
         (chap. ii, fable vi)

Thus to the Rose, the Thistle:
  Why art thou not of thistle-breed?
    Of use thou'dst, then, be truly,
      For asses might upon thee feed.
      - Friedrich M. von Bodenstedt,
        The Rose and Thistle,
        (translated from the German by Frederick Ricord)

A sunbeam warm'd thee into bloom;
  A zephyr's kiss thy blushes gave:
    The tears of ev'ning shed perfume,
      And morn will beam upon thy grave.
        How like to thee, thou transient flower,
          The doom of all we love on earth;
            Beauty, like thee, but decks an hour,
              Decay feeds on it from its birth.
      - Henry G. Bohn

If on creation's morn the king of heaven
  To shrubs and flowers a sovereign lord had given,
    O beauteous rose, he had anointed thee
      Of shrubs and flowers the sovereign lord to be;
        The spotless emblem of unsullied truth,
          The smile of beauty and the glow of youth,
            The garden's pride, the grace of vernal bowers,
              The blush of meadows, and the eye of flowers.
      - Henry G. Bohn

The full-blown rose, mid dewy sweets
  Most perfect dies.
      - Maria Brooks, Written on Seeing Pharamond

O rose, who dares to name thee?
  No longer roseate now, nor soft, nor sweet,
    But pale, and hard, and dry, as stubblewheat,--
      Kept seven years in a drawer, thy titles shame thee.
      - Elizabeth Barrett Browning, A Dead Rose

And thus, what can we do,
  Poor rose and poet too,
    Who both antedate our mission
      In an unprepared season?
      - Elizabeth Barrett Browning,
        A Lay of the Early Rose

"For if I wait," said she,
  "Till time for roses be,--
    For the moss-rose and the musk-rose,
      Maiden-blush and royal-dusk rose,--
        "What glory then for me
          In such a company?--
            Roses plenty, roses plenty
              And one nightingale for twenty?"
      - Elizabeth Barrett Browning,
        A Lay of the Early Rose

This guelder rose, at far too slight a beck
  Of the wind, will toss about her flower-apples.
      - Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Aurora Leigh
         (bk. II)

'Twas a yellow rose,
  By that south window of the little house,
    My cousin Romney gathered with his hand
      On all my birthdays, for me. save the last;
        And then I shook the tree too rough, too rough,
          For roses to stay after.
      - Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Aurora Leigh
         (bk. VI)

Red as a rose of Harpocrate.
      - Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Isabel's Child

You smell a rose through a fence:
  If two should smell it, what matter?
      - Elizabeth Barrett Browning,
        Lord Walter's Wife

A white rosebud for a guerdon.
      - Elizabeth Barrett Browning,
        Romance of the Swan's Nest

Any nose may ravage with impunity a rose.
      - Robert Browning

All June I bound the rose in sheaves,
  Now, rose by rose, I strip the leaves.
      - Robert Browning, One Way of Love

The rose that lives its little hour is prized beyond the sculptured flower.
      - William Cullen Bryant

Loveliest of lovely things are they
  On earth that soonest pass away.
    The rose that lives its little hour
      Is prized beyond the sculptured flower.
      - William Cullen Bryant,
        A Scene on the Banks of the Hudson

I'll pu' the budding rose, when Phoebus peeps in view,
  For its like a baumy kiss o'er her sweet bonnie mou'!
      - Robert Burns, The Posie

Yon rose-buds in the morning-dew,
  How pure amang the leaves sae green!
      - Robert Burns, To Chloris

When love came first to earth, the Spring
  Spread rose-beds to receive him.
      - Thomas Campbell,
        Song--When Love Came First to Earth

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