Near that old Rose named from its hundred leaves 

 The lovely Bridal Roses sweetly blush; 



The Climbing Rose across the trellis weaves 

 A canopy suffused with tender flush ; 



The Damask Roses swing on tiny trees. 



And here the Seven Sisters glow like floral pleiades. 



John Russell Hayes. 



Each New Year is a leaf of our love's rose ; 

 It falls, but quick another rose-leaf grows. 

 So is the flower from year to year the same. 

 But richer, for the dead leaves feed its flame. 



Richard Watson Gilder, 



O beautiful, royal Rose, 



Rose so fair and sweet ! 

 Queen of the garden art thou. 



And I — the Clay at thy feet! 



***** 



It is not mine to approach thee ; 



1 never may kiss thy lips. 



Or touch the hem of thy garment 

 With tremulous finger-tips. 



Yet, O thou beautiful Rose ! 



Queen rose, so fair and sweet. 

 What were lover or crown to thee 



Without the Clay at thy feet? 



Julia C. R. Dorr, 



The lily has an air. 



And the snowdrop a grace. 



And the sweet pea a way. 



And the heart's-ease a face, — 



Yet there's nothing like the rose 

 When she blows. 



Christina G. Rossetti, 



