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I did not pray Him to lay bare

The mystery to me,
Enough the rose was Heaven to smell,

And His own face to see.

It was not in the winter

Our loving lot was cast:
It was the time of roses

We pluck'd them as we pass'd.
Hoon-Ballad. It was not in the Winter.



O beautiful, royal Rose,

O Rose, so fair and sweet! Queen of the garden art thou,

And the Clay at thy feet! 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. DORRT'he Clay to the Rose.

It never will rain roses: when we want
To have more roses we must plant more trees.
GEORGE ELIoT-Spanish Gypsy. Bk. III.

(See also LOVEMAN under RAIN) Oh, raise your deep-fringed lids that close

To wrap you in some sweet dream's thrall;
I am the spectre of the rose

You wore but last night at the ball.
GAUTIER—Spectre of the Rose. (From the

French.) See WERNER's Readings No. 8.
In Heaven's happy bowers
There blossom two flowers,
One with fiery glow
And one as white as snow;
While lol before them stands,
With pale and trembling hands,
A spirit whọ must choose
One, and one refuse.

R. W. GILDERThe White and Red Rose.

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But the rose leaves herself upon the brier, For winds to kiss and grateful bees to feed.

KEATS–On Fame.


Pflücke Rosen, weil sie blühn,

Morgen ist nicht heut!
Keine Stunde lass entfliehn.

Morgen ist nicht heut.
Gather roses while they bloom,

To-morrow is yet far away.
Moments lost have no room

In to-morrow or to-day. GLEIM-Benutzung der Zeit.

(See also HERRICK Under TIME) 9 It is written on the rose

In its glory's full array:
Read what those buds disclose-

"Passing away.”

Woo on, with odour wooing me,

Faint rose with fading core;
For God's rose-thought, that blooms in thee,

Will bloom forevermore.
GEORGE MacDONALD—Songs of the Summer

Night. Pt. III.
Mais elle était du mond, où les plus belles choses

Ont le pire destin;
Et Rose, elle a vécu ce que vivent les roses,

L'espace d'un matin.


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Rose! thou art the sweetest flower,
That ever drank the amber shower;
Rose! thou art the fondest child
Of dimpled Spring, the wood-nymph wild.

MOORE-Odes of Anacreon. Ode XLIV.

Oh! there is naught in nature bright
Whose roses do not shed their light;
When morning paints the Orient skies,
Her fingers burn with roseate dyes.

MOORE/Odes of Anacreon. Ode LV.


Flowers of all hue, and without thorn the rose.

MILTON—Paradise Lost. Bk. IV. L. 256.

Rose of the desert! thou art to me
An emblem of stainless purity,
Of those who, keeping their garments white,
Walk on through life with steps aright.

D. M. MOIRThe White Rose.

4 While rose-buds scarcely show'd their hue, But coyly linger'd on the thorn.

MONTGOMERYThe Adventures of a Star.

5 Two roses on one slender spray

In sweet communion grew,
Together hailed the morning ray

And drank the evening dew.

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Each Morn a thousand Roses brings, you say;
Yes, but where leaves the Rose of Yesterday?

(See also VILLON under Snow)
O rose! the sweetest blossom,
Of spring the fairest flower,
O rose! the joy of heaven.
The god of love, with roses
His yellow locks adorning,
Dances with the hours and graces.

J. G. PERCIVAL-Anacreontic. St. 2.

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The sweetest flower that blows,

I give you as we part
For you it is a rose

For me it is my heart.


There's a bower of roses by Bendemeer's stream, And the nightingale sings round it all the day

long, In the time of my childbood 'twas like a sweet

dream, To sit in the roses and hear the bird's song. MOORELalla Rookh. The Veiled Prophet of

No flower of her kindred,

No rosebud is nigh,
To reflect back her blushes,

Or give sigh for sigh.
MOORE—Last Rose of Summer.

'Tis the last rose of summer,

Left blooming alone.
MOORE—Last Rose of Summer.

There was never a daughter of Eve but once, ere

the tale of her years be done, Shall know the scent of the Eden Rose, but once

beneath the sup; Though the years may bring her joy or pain,

fame, sorrow or sacrifice, The hour that brought her the scent of the Rose,

she lived it in Paradise. SUSAN K. PHILLIPSThe Eden Rose. Quotes!

by KIPLING in Mrs. Hauksbee Sits it Oud. Published anonymously in St. Louis Glule Democrat, July 13, 1878.











Hoary-headed frosts There is no gathering the rose without being Fall in the fresh lap of the crim.son rose. pricked by the thorns.

Midsummer Night's Dream. Act II. Sc. 1. PILPAY-The Two Travellers. Ch. II. Fable VI. L. 107. Let opening roses knotted oaks adorn,

The red rose on triumphant brier. And liquid amber drop from every thorn.

Midsummer Night's Dream. Act III. Sc. 1. Pope-Autumn. L. 36.

L. 96. 3 Die of a rose in aromatic pain.

And the rose like a nymph to the bath addrest, POPE--Essay on Man. Ep. I. L. 200. Which unveiled the depth of her glowing breast,

Till, fold after fold, to the fainting air, Like roses, that in deserts bloom and die.

The soul of her beauty and love lay bare. POPE--Rape of the Lock. Canto IV. L. 158. SHELLEYThe Sensitive Plant. Pt. I. (See also CHAMBERLAYNE under OBSCURITY)


Should this fair rose offend thy sight,
And when the parent-rose decays and dies,

Placed in thy bosom bare,
With a resembling face the daughter-buds arise. 'Twill blush to find itself less white,
PRIOR-Celia to Damon.

And turn Lancastrian there.

JAMES SOMERVILLE-The White Rose. Other We bring roses, beautiful fresh roses,

versions of traditional origin. Dewy as the morning and coloured like the

dawn; Little tents of odour, where the bee reposes,

I am the one rich thing that morn Swooning in sweetness of the bed he dreams

Leaves for the ardent noon to win; upon.

Grasp me not, I have a thorn, THOS. BUCHANAN READ-The New Pastoral. But bend and take my being in. Bk. VII. L. 51.


The Rose.
Die Rose blüht nicht ohne Dornen. Ja: wenn
nur aber nicht die Dornen die Rose überlebten. It was nothing but a rose I gave her,-
The rose does not bloom without thorns.

Nothing but a rose
True: but would that the thorns did not out-

Any wind might rob of half its savor, live the rose.

Any wind that blows. JEAN PAUL RICHTER-Titan. Zykel 105. 8

Withered, faded, pressed between these pages, The rose saith in the dewy morn,

Crumpled, fold on fold, I am most fair;

Once it lay upon her breast, and ages Yet all my loveliness is born

Cannot make it old! Upon a thorn.


The year of the rose is brief;

From the first blade blown to the sheaf, I watched a rose-bud very long

From the thin green leaf to the gold, Brought on by dew and sun and shower, It has time to be sweet and grow old, Waiting to see the perfect flower:

To triumph and leave not a leaf.
Then when I thought it should be strong

SWINBURNEThe Year of the Rose.
It opened at the matin hour
And fell at even-song.

And half in shade and half in sun;

The Rose sat in her bower, 10

With a passionate thrill in her crimson heart. The rose is fairest when 'tis budding new,

BAYARD TAYLOR—Poems of the Orient. The And hope is brightest when it dawns from Poet in the East. St. 5.

fears; The rose is sweetest wash'd with morning dew, And love is loveliest when embalm'd in tears.

And is there any moral shut SCOTT_Lady of the Lake. Canto IV.

Within the bosom of the rose? 11

TENNYSONThe Day-Dream. Moral.
From off this brier pluck a white rose with me. 23
Henry VI. Pt. I. Act II. Sc. 4. L. 30. The fairest things have fleetest end:

Their scent survives their close,
Then will I raise aloft the milk-white rose, But the rose's scent is bitterness
With whose sweet smell the air shall be per To him that loved the rose!

FRANCIS THOMPSON-Daisy. St. 10. Henry VI. Pt. II. Act I, Sc. 1. L. 254. 13

I saw the rose-grove blushing in pride, There will we make our peds of roses,

I gathered the blushing rose and sigh'd And a thousand fragrant posies.

I come from the rose-grove, mother, Merry Wives of Windsor. Act III. Sc. 1. L. I come from the grove of roses. 19. Song.

GIL VICENTE-I Come from the Rose-grove, (See also MARLOWE)

Mother. Trans. by JOHN BOWRING.





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Go, lovely Rose!

Tell her that wastes her time and me
That now she knows.

When I resemble her to thee,
How sweet and fair she seems to be.

How fair is the Rose! what a beautiful flower.

The glory of April and May! But the leaves are beginning to fade in an hour,

And they wither and die in a day. Yet the Rose has one powerful virtue to boast,

Above all the flowers of the field; When its leaves are all dead, and fine colours are

lost, Still how sweet a perfume it will yield! ISAAC WATTS—The Rose.

Its sides I'll plant with dew-sweet eglantine.
KEATSEndymion. Bk. IV. L. 700.

As through the verdant maze
Of sweetbriar hedges I pursue my walk;
Or taste the smell of dairy.

THOMSONThe Seasons. Spring. L. 105.
The garden rose may richly bloom

In cultured soil and genial air,
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 hillside shows Its single leaf and fainter hue, Untrained and wildly free, yet still a sister

rose! WHITTIERThe Bride of Pennacook. Pt. III.

The Daughter.


The rosebuds lay their crimson lips together.

AMELIA B. WELBY-Hopeless Love. St. 5.


Let us crown ourselves with rosebuds before they be withered.

Wisdom of Solomon. II. 8.




Rosa Lucida
A wild rose roofs the ruined shed,

And that and summer well agree.

A brier rose, whose buds Yield fragrant harvest for the honey bee.

L. E. LANDONThe Oak. L. 17.

The budding rose above the rose full blown.

WORDSWORTH-The Prelude. Bk. XI.




Far off, most secret, and inviolate Rose,
Enfold me in my hour of hours; where those
Who sought thee in the Holy Sepulchre
Or in the wine vat, dwell beyond the stir

And tumult of defeated dreams.
W. B. YEATS—The Secret Rose.

A waft from the roadside bank

Tells where the wild rose nods.
BAYARD TAYLORThe Guests of Night.

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Fuller's regiment. The Vicar of Bray was said to be REV. SYMON SYMONDS; also Dr. FRANCIS CASWELL. A Vicar of Bray, in Berkshire, Eng., was alternately Catholic and Protestant under Henry VIII., Edward VI., Mary, and Elizabeth. See FULLERWorthies of Berkshire. SIMON ALEYN (ALLEN) named in BROM's Letters from the Bodleian. Vol. II. Pt. I. P. 100.



Ce n'est que lorsqu'il expira
Que le peuple, qui l'enterra, pleura.
And in the years he reigned; through all the

country wide, There was no cause for weeping, save when

the good man died. BERANGER-Le Roi Yvetot. Rendering of THACKERAY-King of Brentford.

(See also PEACOCK under EPITAPH) Der König herrscht aber regiert nicht.

The king reigns but does not govern. BISMARCK-In a debate in the Reichstag. Jan.

24, 1882. He denied the application of this maxim to Germany.

(See also HÉNAULT, THIERS) The Prussian Sovereigns are in possession of a crown pot by the grace of the people, but by God's grace. BISMARCK-Speech in the Prussian Parliament.

(1847) St. George he was for England; St. Dennis was

for France. Sing, “Honi soit qui mal y pense.” Black-letter Ballad. London. (1512)

God bless the King—I mean the faith's de

fender; God bless (no harm in blessing) the pretender; But who the pretender is, or who is KingGod bless us all—that's quite another thing.

JOHN BYROM-Miscellaneous Pieces.



Every noble crown is, and on Earth will forever be, a crown of thorns. CARLYLE— Past and Present. Bk. III. Ch.

Fallitur egregio quisquis sub principe credet
Servitutem. Nunquam libertas gratior extat
Quam sub rege pio.

That man is deceived who thinks it slavery to live under an excellent prince. Never does liberty appear in a more gracious form than under a pious king. CLAUDIANUSDe Laudibus Stilichonis. III.

113. 15 'Tis a very fine thing to be father-in-law To a very magnificent three-tailed bashaw. GEORGE COLMAN (The Younger)—Blue Beard.

Act III. Sc. 4.

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7 Many a crown Covers bald foreheads. E. B. BROWNING—Aurora Leigh. Bk. I. L.


La clémence est la plus belle marque
Qui fasse à l'univers connaître un vrai monarque.

Clemency is the surest proof of a true monarch.



I loved no King since Forty One

When Prelacy went down,
A Cloak and Band I then put on,

And preached against the Crown.
SAMUEL BUTLER—The Turn-Coat. In Pos-

thumous Works.

I am monarch of all I survey,

My right there is none to dispute,
From the centre all round to the sea,

I am lord of the fowl and the bruté.
COWPER—Verses supposed to be written by

Alexander Selkirk.



Now let us sing, long live the king.

COWPER-History of John Gilpin.


And kind as kings upon their coronation day. DRYDEN–Fables. The Hind and the Panther.

Pt. I. L. 271.


Whatever I can say or do,

I'm sure not much avails;
I shall still Vicar be of Bray,

Whichever side prevails.
SAMUEL BUTLERTale of the Cobbler and the

Vicar of Bray. In Posthumous Works.
I dare be bold, you're one of those

Have took the covenant,
With cavaliers are cavaliers

And with the saints, a saint.
SAMUEL BUTLER—Tale of the Cobbler and the

Vicar of Bray.
In good King Charles's golden days

When royalty no harm meant,
A zealous high-churchman was I,

And so I got preferment.
Vicar of Bray. English song. Written before

1710. Also said to have been written by
an officer in George the First's army, Col.

A man's a man,
But when you see a king, you see the work
Of many thousand men.

GEORGE ELIOT-Spanish Gypsy. Bk. I. Who made thee a prince and a judge over us?

Exodus. II. 14.


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