scent, grace and dream

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Roses, a poem


There is a time when the roses bloom.
Sweet and fair;
And the warm noon air
Sates itself with the rich perfume,
And the night-wind sighs through the scented gloom,
Sweet is the time when the roses bloom.

There is a time when the roses fade.
Fresh were they,
But the fervid day
Fainted them, and they mourned for shade,
Each sweet rose at her heart afraid.
Sad is the time when the roses fade.

There is a time when the roses die, —
Nothing left
But a stem bereft;
Petals sere on the brown earth lie;
Night winds mourn as they pass thereby.
Woe is the time when the roses die.


by H. M. Waithman








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Kommentare:

  1. Hi dear Isabella. Not been much bloging last months but here I am !
    Very very beautiful poem and a wonderful picture goes with it ! Best wishes to you!
    Love and kisses
    Lasse

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  2. I love it! This is very beautiful!
    A kiss

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  3. Really lovely!!! I like the bokeh background...

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  4. quelle grâce dans cette douce lumière
    ton regard est délicatesse
    belle journée Isabella
    bises

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  5. Wunderschoene Bluete! Toller Fokus und ein so passendes Gedicht!

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  6. Una belleza!!!!!!!!
    Abrazos y feliz fin de semana.

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Your comments are greatly appreciated! Absolutely everyone is important to me and is read carefully and generally (in most cases) any questions answered. Your contributions and interactions keeps my blog and the joy with it vivid.



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