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You are now in the place where we share poems of well-known poets, often from the list “Best Poems” and “Best Poets”. Due to copyright we only present the poems of those poets who passed away some time ago and therefore, you will not find poems of contemporary poets here. We invite you to familiarise yourself with the poems about Rose available here and we hope you will enjoy reading. The poems about Rose found here you can easily add to the free ecards from our site, and then send ecards to friends. Best Rose poems for you.
The Golden Rose
A poor lost princess, weary and worn,
Came over the down by the wind-washed moor,
And the king looked out on her grace forlorn,
And he took her in at his palace door.
He made her queen, he gave her a crown,
Bidding her rest and be glad and gay
In his golden town, with a golden gown,
And a new gold lily every day.
But the crown is heavy, the gold gown gray,
And the queen's pale breast is like autumn snows;
For he brings a gold lily every day,
But no king gathers the golden rose.
One came at last to the palace keep
By worlds of water and leagues of land,...
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Poems by Edith Nesbit
The Lily And The Rose
The nymph must lose her female friend
If more admired than she,
But where will fierce contention end
If flowers can disagree?
Within the garden's peaceful scene
Appeared two lovely foes,
Aspiring to the rank of queen,
The Lily and the Rose.
The Rose soon reddened into rage,
And swelling with disdain,
Appealed to many a poet's page
To prove her right to reign.
The Lily's height bespoke command,
A fair imperial flower,...
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Poems by William Cowper
The Little Native Rose
There is a lasting little flower,
That everybody knows,
Yet none has thought to think about
The little Native Rose.
The wattle and the waratah
The world has heard of those;
But who, outside Australia, kens
The little Native Rose.
Yet first for faint, far off perfume,
That lives where memory goes;
And first of all for fadelessness
The little Native Rose.
Poems by Henry Lawson
The Rose
We love the land when the world goes round,
And deep, deep down in her thorny ground,
Where nobody comes, and nobody knows,
We love the Rose. Oh! we love the Rose.
And none to tell us, and none to teach
By the western hedge or the shelving beach,
But all of us know what everyone knows,
We love the Rose. Oh! we love the Rose.
We love the rose when our day is dead,
And they lay their roses upon our bed;
Too late! Too late! in our last repose!
But we love the Rose. Ah! we love the Rose.
Poems by Henry Lawson
The Rose
Beneath my chamber window
Pierrot was singing, singing;
I heard his lute the whole night thru
Until the east was red.
Alas, alas Pierrot,
I had no rose for flinging
Save one that drank my tears for dew
Before its leaves were dead.
I found it in the darkness,
I kissed it once and threw it,
The petals scattered over him,
His song was turned to joy;
And he will never know
Alas, the one who knew it!
The rose was plucked when dusk was dim
Beside a laughing boy.
Poems by Sara Teasdale
The Rose
It tossed its head at the wooing breeze;
And the sun, like a bashful swain,
Beamed on it through the waving trees
With a passion all in vain,--
For my rose laughed in a crimson glee,
And hid in the leaves in wait for me.
The honey-bee came there to sing
His love through the languid hours,
And vaunt of his hives, as a proud old king
Might boast of his palace-towers:
But my rose bowed in a mockery,
And hid in the leaves in wait for me.
The humming-bird, like a courtier gay,
Dipped down with a dalliant song,...
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Poems by James Whitcomb Riley
The Rose
As late each flower that sweetest blows
I pluck'd, the Garden's pride!
Within the petals of a Rose
A sleeping Love I 'spied.
Around his brows a beamy wreath
Of many a lucent hue;
All purple glow'd his cheek, beneath,
Inebriate with the dew.
I softly seiz'd th' unguarded Power,
Nor scar'd his balmy rest:
And plac'd him, cag'd within the flower,
On spotless Sara's breast.
But when unweeting of the guile
Awoke the pris'ner sweet,...
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Poems by Samuel Coleridge
The Rose
Presse me not to take more pleasure
In this world of sugred lies,
And to use a larger measure
Than my strict, yet welcome size.
First, there is no pleasure here:
Colour'd griefs indeed there are,
Blushing woes, that look as cleare,
As if they could beautie spare.
Or if such deceits there be,
Such delights I meant to say;
There are no such things to me,
Who have pass'd my right away.
But I will not much oppse
Unto what you now advise:...
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Poems by George Herbert
The Rose
The rose had been washed, just washed in a shower
Which Mary to Anna conveyed;
The plentiful moisture encumbered the flower,
And weighed down its beautiful head.
The cup was all filled, and the leaves were all wet,
And it seemed, to a fanciful view,
To weep for the buds it had left with regret
On the flourishing bush where it grew.
I hastily seized it, unfit as it was
For a nosegay, so dripping and drowned,
And swinging it rudely, too rudely, alas!
I snapped it; it fell to the ground.
And such, I exclaimed, is the pitiless part
Some act by the delicate mind,...
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Poems by William Cowper
Tags from Poems Rose
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