I know the colour rose, and it is lovely, But not when it ripens in a tumour; And healing greens, leaves and grass, so springlike, In limbs that fester are not springlike.

-Abse, Dannie
  'Pathology of Colours'.

Al night by the rose, rose, Al night by the rose I lay, Dorst ich nought the rose stele, And yet I bar the flour away.

-Anonymous
c.1210^1240  Untitled lyric.

   The rose is red, the leaves are green, God save Elizabeth, our noble queen.

-Anonymous
 Lines written by a Westminster schoolboy in the margin of his copy of Julius Caesar. Quoted in P  W Hasler (ed)  The House of Commons,1558^1603 (vol.1), p.474.

I am the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the valleys. As the lilyamong thorns, so is my love among the daughters.

-Bible (Old Testament)
Song of Solomon 2:1^2.

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.

-Blake,William
  Songs of Experience,'The Sick Rose'.

Nor will the sweetest delight of gardens afford much comfort in sleep; wherein the dullness of that sense shakes hands with delectable odours; and though in the bed of Cleopatra, can hardly with any delight raise up the ghost of a rose.

-Browne, SirThomas
  The Garden of Cyrus, ch.5.

And my fause Luver staw my rose, But, ah! he left the thorn wi'me.

-Burns, Robert
  'The Banks o' Doon' (2nd version), stanza 2.

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 bonie lass, 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: O I will love thee still, my Dear, While the sands o' life shall run.

-Burns, Robert
  'A red, red rose'.

The first man to compare the cheeks of a young woman to a rose was obviously a poet; the first to repeat it was possibly an idiot.

-Dal|¤  , Salvador
  Dialogues with Marcel Duchamp, preface.

   Yo persigo una forma que no encuentra mi estilo, boto¤  n de pensamiento que busca ser la rosa; se anuncia con un beso que en mis labios se posa al abrazo imposible de laVenus de Milo. I seek a form that my style cannot discover, a bud of thought that wants to be a rose; it is heralded by a kiss that is placed on my lips in the impossible embrace of theVenus de Milo.

-Dar|¤  o, Rube¤  n pseudonym of Fe¤  lixRube¤  nGarc|¤a Sarmiento
  Prosas profanas,'Yo persigo una forma†' (translated as'I seek a form†',1922).

Viva la the New Brigade! Viva la the Old One, too! Viva la, the Rose shall fade, And the Shamrock shine for ever new!

-Davis,Thomas Osborne
  The Spirit of the Nation,'Clare's Dragoons'.

Oh, no man knows Through what wild centuries Roves back the rose.

-de la Mare,Walter
  'All That's Past'.

And all shall be well and All manner of thing shall be well When the tongues of flame are in-folded Into a crowned knot of fire And the fire and the rose are one.

-Eliot,T(homas) S(tearns)
  Four Quartets,'Little Gidding', pt.5.

Reachmea rose, honey, and pour mea last drop intothat there crystal glass.

-Fitzgerald, F(rancis) Scott Key
  The Great Gatsby, ch.4.

How splendid in the morning glows the lily; with what grace he throws His supplication to the rose.

-Flecker,James Elroy
  'Yasmin'.

What use the green river, the gold place, if time and death pinned human in the pocket of my land not rest from taking underground the green all-willowed and white rose and bean flower and morning-mist picnic of song in pepper-pot breast of thrush?

-Frame,Janet Paterson also known as Jean PatersonFrame
Owls Do Cry, pt.1, ch.4.

Children are dumb to say how hot the day is, How hot the scent is of the summer rose.

-Graves, Robert von Ranke
  'The Cool Web'.

Go happy rose, and interwove With other flowers, bind my love. Tell her too, she must not be, Longer flowing, longer free, That so oft has fetter'd me.

-Herrick, Robert
  'To the Rose: Song'.

Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose, Flushing his brow, and in his painted heart Made purple riot.

-Keats,John
  Lamia, Isabella, The Eve of St.  Agnes and Other Poems,'The Eve of St.  Agnes', stanza16.

As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again.

-Keats,John
  Lamia, Isabella, The Eve of St.  Agnes and Other Poems,'The Eve of St.  Agnes', stanza 27.