THE ROSE IN ART

1. Red and White Roses

Read in these roses the sad story
Of my hard fate, and your own glory.
In the white you may discover
The paleness of a fainting lover;
In the red the flames still feeding
On my heart, with fresh wounds bleeding.
The white will tell you how I languish,
And the red express my anguish;
The white my innocence displaying,
The red my martyrdom betraying.
The frowns that on your brow resided,
Have those roses thus divided.
Oh! Let your smiles but clear the weather,
And then they both shall grow tighter.

Thomas Carew (?1595 - ?1640)



2. The Sick Rose

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.

William Blake (1757 – 1832)



3. To a Friend

As late i rambled in the happy fields,
What time the skylark shakes the tremulous dew
From his lush clover covert;- when anew
Adventurous knight take up their dinted shields:
I saw the sweetest flower wild nature yields,
A fresh-blown musk rose; ‘twas the first that threw
Its sweets upon the summer: graceful it grew
As is the wand that queen Titania wields.
And, as I feasted on its fragrancy:
I thought the garden rose it far excell’d:
But when, O Wells! Thy roses came to me
My sense with their deliciousness was spell’d:
Soft voices had they, that with tender plea
Whisper’d of peace, and truth, and friendliness
Unquell’d.


To a Friend Who Sent Me Some Rose, John Keats (1795-1821)


4. Of Poetry and Painting

June of this iris and the rose.
The rose not English as we fondly think.
Anacreon and Bion sang the rose;
And Rhodes the isle whose very name means rose
Struck roses on her coins;
Pliny made lists and Roman libertines
Made wreaths to wear among the flutes and wines;
The young Crusaders found the Syrian rose
Springing from Saracenic quoins,
And China opened her shut gate
To let her roses through, and Persian Shrines
Of poetry and painting gave the rose.

Vita Sackville-West (1892-1962)