She bathed with roses red, And violets blew. And all the sweetest flowres That in the forrest grew. — Edmund Spenser Copy Share Image
A profusion of pink roses being ragged in the rain speaks to me of all gentleness and its enduring. — William Carlos Williams Copy Share Image
The sweetest flower that blows, I give you as we part. For you it is a Rose, For me it is my… — Frederick Peterson Copy Share Image
The rose that lives its little hour Is prized beyone the sculpted flower. — William C. Bryant Copy Share Image
Long live the rose that grew from the concrete when no one else ever cared. — Tupac Shakur Copy Share Image
Just remember, during the winter, far beneath the bitter snow, that there's a seed that with the sun's love in the spring… — Bette Midler Copy Share Image
If love were what the rose is, And I were like the leaf, Our lives would grow together In sad or singing… — Algernon Charles Swinburne Copy Share Image
The red rose whispers of passion, And the white rose breathes of love; O, the red rose is a falcon, And the… — John Boyle O'Reilly Copy Share Image
And the rose like a nymph to the bath addrest, Which unveiled the depth of her glowing breast, Till, fold after fold,… — Percy Bysshe Shelley Copy Share Image
How cunningly nature hides every wrinkle of her inconceivable antiquity under roses and violets and morning dew! — Ralph Waldo Emerson Copy Share Image
