Rose Poems
All Night by the Rose
All night by the rose, rose,
All night by the rose I lay.
I did not dare the rose to steal
Yet I bore the flower away.
The Sick Rose
O Rose, thou art sick.
The invisible worm
That flies in the night
In the howling storm
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy,
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.
BY W ILLIAM BLAKE 1757–1827 William Blake
Robert Burns. 1759–1796
A Red, Red Rose
O MY Luve 's like a red, red rose
That 's newly sprung in June:
O my Luve 's like the melodie
That's sweetly play'd in tune!
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, 5
So deep in luve am I:
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry:
Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun; 10
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only Luve,
And fare thee weel a while!
And I will come again, my Luve, 15
Tho' it were ten thousand mile.