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The fresh eglantine exhaled a breath, Whose odours were of power to raise from death. - John Dryden, The Flower and the Leaf (l. 96) Wild-rose, Sweetbriar, Eglantine, All these pretty names are mine, And scent in every leaf is mine, And a leaf for all is mine, And the scent--Oh, that's divine! Happy-sweet and pungent fine, Pure as dew, and pick'd as wine. - Leigh Hunt (James Henry Leigh Hunt), Songs and Chrous of the Flowers--Sweetbrier Rain-scented eglantine Gave temperate sweets to the well-wooing sun. - John Keats (1), Endymion (bk. I, l. 100) Its sides I'll plant with dew-sweet eglantine. - John Keats (1), Endymion (bk. IV, l. 700) As through the verdant maze Of sweetbrier hedges I pursue my walk; Or taste the smell of dairy. - James Thomson (1), Seasons--Spring (l. 105) The garden rose may richly bloom In cultured soil and genial sir, To cloud the light of Fashion's room Or droop in Beauty's midnight hair, In lonelier grace, to sun and dew The sweetbrier on the hilside shows Its single leaf and fainter hue, Untrained and wildly free, yet sill a sister rose! - John Greenleaf Whittier, The Bride of Pennacook (pt. III, The Daughter)
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