Poet Emily Dickinson expresses her thoughts on roses in this short poem.
We love the spring
when rose planting time is here, or when roses start to bloom.
We hope the words in this poetry remind
you of the beauty and fragileness of the rose. As Jean Richepin once said,
"One may live without bread, not without roses."
Nobody Knows This Little Rose
Nobody knows this little Rose -
It might a pilgrim be
Did I not take it from the ways
And lift it up to thee.
Only a Bee will miss it -
Only a Butterfly,
Hastening from far journey -
On its breast to lie -
Only a Bird will wonder -
Only a Breeze will sigh -
Ah Little Rose - how easy
For such as thee to die!
My Garden with Walls
My heart a garden is, a garden walled;
And in the wide white spaces near the gates
Grow tall and showy flowers, sun-loving flowers,
Where they are seen of every passer-by;
Who straightway faring on doth bear the tale
How bright my garden is and filled with sun.
But there are shaded walks far from the gates,
So far the passer-by can never see,
Where violets grow for thoughts of those afar,
And rue for memories of vanished days,
And sweet forget-me-nots to bid me think
With tenderness,—lest I grow utter cold
And hard as women grow who never weep.
And when come times I fear that Love is dead
And Sorrow rules as King the world’s white ways,
I go with friends I love among these beds.
Where friend and flower do speak alike to me,
Sometimes with silences, sometimes with words.
‘Tis then I thank my God for those high walls
That shut the friends within, the world without,
That passers-by may only see the sun.
That friends I love may share the quiet shade.
More verses about roses:
A true poet does not bother to be poetical.
Nor does a nursery gardener scent his roses.
God gave us memory so that
we might have roses in December.
James M. Barrie
If love were what the rose is,
And I were like the leaf,
Our lives would grow together
In sad or singing weather.
And I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies.
She bathed with roses red,
and violets blew.
And all the sweetest flowers
That in the forrest grew.
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