220 THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 
Rose, Unique. — Call me not beautiful. 
Since that my beauty cannot please his eve. 
I’ll weep what’s left away, and weeping die. — Shaks . 
Rose, White. — I am worthy of you. 
My sufferings for you make your heart my due. 
Dry den. 
Rose, White and Withered. — Transient Impressions. 
Quickly withered like your love away. 
Rosebud, White. — A heart that is ignorant of love. 
A pure unspotted heart, never yet tainted with love. 
Shaks, 
Rose, Thornless. — L ady, deign to smile. 
Do not blast my springing hopes. 
Which thy kind hand has planted in my soul. — Rowe. 
Rose, Maiden’s Blush. — If you love me, you will find 
me out. 
I do betray myself with blushes. — Shaks. 
Rosebud, Red. — You are young and beautiful. 
She looks like morning roses newly washed in dew. 
Shaks. 
Rose, Damask. — Rosa Damascena. — Freshness. 
Fresh as the morn, and as the season fair. — Pope. 
Rose, Moss.— -Superior Merit. 
Behold the first in virtue as in face. — Pope. 
Rose, Burgundy. — Unconscious Beauty. 
Doubts the beauty, which she doubts alone, 
Which dazzles every eye except her own .—Day ley. 
Rose, Greville Superb. — Rose Grevelli.— Grace. 
Grace was in all her steps, heaven in her eye. 
In every gesture dignity and love. — Milton. 
