Here are a couple of poems about roses by two of the greatest. Enjoy!
A LITTLE BUDDING ROSE by Emily Brontë
It was a little budding rose,
Round like a fairy globe,
And shyly did its leaves unclose
Hid in their mossy robe,
But sweet was the slight and spicy smell
It breathed from its heart invisible.
The rose is blasted, withered, blighted,
Its root has felt a worm,
And like a heart beloved and slighted,
Failed, faded, shrunk its form.
Bud of beauty, bonnie flower,
I stole thee from thy natal bower.
I was the worm that withered thee,
Thy tears of dew all fell for me;
Leaf and stalk and rose are gone,
Exile earth they died upon.
Yes, that last breath of balmy scent
With alien breezes sadly blent!
ROSES by George Eliot
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!
Those are from a book called Centifolia-100-Rose-Poems but for the life of me I can not remember where I found it so I uploaded it to 4shared if you are interested in reading it yourself.
I do not know if this will work so please let me know if you try to download it and run into any problems.