The Rose: Its History, Poetry, Culture, and Classification

الغلاف الأمامي
J. Wiley, 1860 - 318 من الصفحات
 

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الصفحة 104 - O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem By that sweet ornament which truth doth give! The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem For that sweet odour which doth in it live. The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye As the perfumed tincture of the roses, Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly When summer's breath their masked buds discloses; But, for their virtue only is their show, They live unwoo'd and unrespected fade, Die to themselves.
الصفحة 95 - Tis the last rose of summer Left blooming alone ; All her lovely companions Are faded and gone ; No flower of her kindred, No rose-bud is nigh, To reflect back her blushes, Or give sigh for sigh. I'll not leave thee, thou lone one ! To pine on the stem; Since the lovely are sleeping, Go, sleep thou with them. Thus kindly I scatter Thy leaves o'er the bed, Where thy mates of the garden Lie scentless and dead. So soon may...
الصفحة 122 - Thy hand has graced him. Nestled at his root Is beauty, such as blooms not in the glare Of the broad sun. That delicate forest flower With scented breath, and look so like a smile, Seems, as it issues from the shapeless mould, An emanation of the indwelling Life, A visible token of the upholding Love, That are the soul of this wide universe.
الصفحة 112 - WHO has not heard of the Vale of Cashmere, With its roses the brightest that earth ever gave, Its temples, and grottos, and fountains as clear As the love-lighted eyes that hang over their wave...
الصفحة 8 - I am the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the valleys. As the lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters.
الصفحة 70 - Nor soiled by ruder breath ? Who ever saw the earliest rose First open her sweet breast ? Or, when the summer sun goes down. The first soft star in evening's crown Light up her gleaming crest ? Fondly we seek the dawning bloom On features wan and fair, — The gazing eye no change can trace, But look away a little space, Then turn, and, lo ! 'tis there.
الصفحة 105 - But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd Than that which, withering on the virgin thorn, Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness.
الصفحة 121 - E'er wore his crown as loftily as he Wears the green coronal of leaves with which Thy hand has graced him. Nestled at his root Is beauty, such as blooms not in the glare Of the broad sun. That delicate forest...
الصفحة 104 - The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem For that sweet odour which doth in it live. The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye As the perfumed tincture of the roses, Hang on such thorns and play as wantonly When summer's breath their masked buds discloses; But, for their virtue only is their show, They live unwoo'd and unrespected fade, Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so; Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made.
الصفحة 78 - It is the very emblem of a maid : For when the west wind courts her gently, How modestly she blows, and paints the sun With her chaste blushes ! when the north comes near her, i» Rude and impatient, then, like chastity, She locks her beauties in her bud again, And leaves him to base briers.

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