Rose poems describe their colors, soft petals, and the way they bloom. Roses are beautiful flowers that hold special significance in various aspects of life.
Different colored roses convey different emotions. They are known as a symbol of love and affection. They are also popular gifts for special occasions.
Rose poems celebrate the grace and charm of these flowers. They teach us to express our emotions and inspire us to find hope and beauty.
They also convey messages of love, beauty, and emotions.
Let’s read some of the rose poems and inspire ourselves to appreciate the simple joys and find hope and optimism.
A Rose
By Emily Dickinson
A sepal, petal, and a thorn
Upon a common summer’s morn,
A flash of dew, a bee or two,
A breeze
A caper in the trees, —
And I’m a rose!
The Sick Rose
By William Blake
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.
Clod Of The Earth
By Anna Hempstead Branch
Clod of the earth, that hardly knows
How the warm sun comes or the cold rain goes,
That lieth dumb and bleak and bare,
It was thy thought begat the rose.
‘The Sick Rose’.
By William Blake,
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 …
‘A Red, Red Rose’.
By Robert Burns
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
Go, Lovely Rose’.
By Edmund Waller
Go, lovely rose!
Tell her that wastes her time and me,
That now she knows,
When I resemble her to thee,
How sweet and fair she seems to be …
Roman de la Rose.
For Love it prayeth, and also
Commaundeth me that it be so
And if ther any aske me,
Whether that it be he or she,
How [that] this book [the] which is here
Shal hote, that I rede you here;
It is the Romance of the Rose,
In which al the art of love I close …
Nobody Knows This Little Rose’
By Emily Dickinson
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!
The Rose
By Christina Rossetti, ‘
The lily has a smooth stalk,
Will never hurt your hand;
But the rose upon her brier
Is lady of the land.
There’s sweetness in an apple tree,
And profit in the corn;
But lady of all beauty
Is a rose upon a thorn.
When with moss and honey
She tips her bending brier,
And half unfolds her glowing heart,
She sets the world on fire.
One Perfect Rose
By Dorothy Parker,
A single flow’r he sent me, since we met.
All tenderly his messenger he chose;
Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet—
One perfect rose.
I knew the language of the floweret;
“My fragile leaves, ” it said, “his heart enclose.”
Love long has taken for his amulet
One perfect rose.
Why is it no one ever sent me yet
One perfect limousine, do you suppose?
Ah no, it’s always just my luck to get
One perfect rose.
The Humming Bird
Tell me, O Rose, what thing it is
That now appears, now vanishes?
Surely it took its fire-green hue
From daybreaks that it glittered through;
Quick, for this sparkle of the dawn
Glints through the garden and is gone!
What was the message, Rose, what word:
Delight foretold, or hope deferred
There Is Nothing Like The Rose
By Christina Georgina Rossetti
The lily has an air,
And the snowdrop a grace,
And the sweetpea a way,
And the heartsease a face,—
Yet there ’s nothing like the rose
When she blows.
Hope Is Like A harebell
By Christina Georgina Rossetti
Hope is like a harebell trembling from its birth,
Love is like a rose the joy of all the earth;
Faith is like a lily lifted high and white,
Love is like a lovely rose the world’s delight;
Harebells and sweet lilies show a thornless growth,
But the rose with all its thorns excels them both.
The Hedge-Rose Opens
By Alfred Noyes
How passionately it opens after rain,
And O, how like a prayer
To those great shining skies! Do they disdain
A bride so small and fair?
See the imploring petals, how they part
And utterly lay bare
The perishing treasures of that piteous heart
In wild surrender there.
What? Would’st thou, too, drink up the Eternal bliss,
Ecstatically dare,
O, little bride of God, to invoke His kiss?
But O, how like a prayer!
This is all about rose poems.