Rose Poems

Rose Poems

The Excursion, by Du Fu

I How delighted, at sunset, to loosen the bo...

Bifurcation, by Robert Browning

WE were two lovers; let me lie by her,
My tom...

The Cardinal and the Dog, by Robert Browning

CRESCENZIO, the Pope's Legate at the High Coun...

Confessions, by Robert Browning

What is he buzzing in my ears?
"Now that I co...

The Glove, by Robert Browning

(Peter Ronsard Loquitur) "Heigho!" yawned one ...

A Pretty Woman, by Robert Browning

That fawn-skin-dappled hair of hers,
And the ...

Rabbi Ben Ezra, by Robert Browning

Grow old along with me!
The best is yet to be,...

Songs From Pippa Passes, by Robert Browning

Day! Faster and more fast,
O'er night's brim,...

Innocence, by Conrad Aiken

The little leaves that climbed so high
Are blo...

Parasitics: To Certain Poets, by Conrad Aiken

Who are you, now, that thus presume
To come ...

The Rejection, by Conrad Aiken

Sitting in a café, and watching her refl...

Rose and Murray, by Conrad Aiken

After the movie, when the lights come up,
He...

Sonata in Pathos, by Conrad Aiken

I Well, I am tired.. Tired of all these years...

To My Wife, by Conrad Aiken

Whatever loveliness is in this music,
Whateve...

Variations: VII, by Conrad Aiken

Red leaf, red leaf, falling to float
On the ...

Variations: XI, by Conrad Aiken

This night I dreamed that you shone before me
...

Variations: XVII, by Conrad Aiken

Tear the pink rose petal by petal
And let the ...

Violet Moore and Bert Moore, by Conrad Aiken

He thinks her little feet should pass
Where da...

White Nocturne, by Conrad Aiken

I The first soft snowflakes hovering down the ...

An Aquarium, by Amy Lowell

Streaks of green and yellow iridescence,
Silv...

Azure and Gold, by Amy Lowell

April had covered the hills
With flickering ye...

Before the Altar, by Amy Lowell

Before the Altar, bowed, he stands
With empt...

Behind a Wall, by Amy Lowell

I own a solace shut within my heart,
  &...

The Blue Scarf, by Amy Lowell

Pale, with the blue of high zeniths, shimmere...

The Book of Hours of Sister Clotilde, by Amy Lowell

The Bell in the convent tower swung.
High over...