THE royal rose our sovereign bard bewitches; Three roses crown his lyre; The red is Conquest; and the yellow, Riches; The damask rose, Desire. But o'er the airs with which his strings are ringing, One rose hangs out of sight; Of the white rose he never dreams of singing, -- For Sorrow's rose is white. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LINES TO A MOVEMENT IN MOZART'S E-FLAT SYMPHONY by THOMAS HARDY SONNET: THE EVENING STAR by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW CROSSING THE BAR by ALFRED TENNYSON TRACT by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS A JEWISH FAMILY; IN A SMALL VALLEY OPPOSITE ST. GOAR by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH |