I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled; That every Hyacinth the Garden wears Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
Have you seen the roses? There's a whole lot of colours.
Love and a red rose can't be hid.
Loveliest of lovely things are they on earth that soonest pass away. The rose that lives its little hour is prized beyond the sculptured flower.
Love planted a rose, and the world turned sweet.
All June I bound the rose in sheaves, Now, rose by rose, I strip the leaves.
In real life, unlike in Shakespeare, the sweetness of the rose depends upon the name it bears. Things are not only what they are. They are, in very important respects, what they seem to be.
I don't think anyone looks into their family tree and expects it to come up smelling of roses.
Roses are my favourite flower, and my mum always grew a lot of them.
Love thou the rose, yet leave it on its stem.
To me the meanest flower that blows can give thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.