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.
- Rose Poem by William Blake
The fairest flower of them all,
I give to you as we part.
For you it is a Red Rose,
for me it is my heart.
- Unknown
They are not long,
the weeping and the laughter,
Love and desire and hate:
I think they
have no portion in us after
We pass the gate.
They are not long,
the days of wine and roses:
Out of a misty dream
Our path emerges for a while,
then closes
Within a dream.
- Poem by Ernest Dowson
ROMANTIC