Roses from my garden photographed on a lovely sunny morning and a little poetry too!
I wonder if anyone knows,
Who lives at the heart of this velvety rose,
Now is it a goblin, or is it an elf,
Or is it the queen of the fairies herself.
O! how much more doth beauty beauteous seem
By that sweet ornament which truth doth give.
The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
For that sweet odour, which doth in it live.
What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.
You love the roses - so do I. I wish
The sky would rain down roses, as they rain
From off the shaken bush. Why will it not?
Then all the valley would be pink and white
And soft to tread on. They would fall as light
As feathers, smelling sweet; and it would be
Like sleeping and like waking, all at once!
Nobody knows this little Rose
It might be a pilgrim be
Did I not take it from the ways
And lift it up to thee.