Love and Roses

Bouquet of Roses in a Vase  Pierre Augusta Renior

O My Luve's Like a Red, Red Rose

by Robert Burns

O my Luve's like a red, red rose

That’s newly sprung in June;

O my Luve's like the melodie

That’s sweetly play'd in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,

So deep in luve am I:

And I will luve thee still, my dear,

Till a’ the seas gang dry:

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,

And the rocks melt wi’ the sun:

I will luve thee still, my dear,

While the sands o’ life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only Luve

And fare thee weel, a while!

And I will come again, my Luve,

Tho’ it were ten thousand mile.

Milking Time

Milk-Maid  Myles Birket Foster

 The Milkmaid 

by Thomas Hardy
Under a daisied bank
There stands a rich red ruminating cow,
And hard against her flank
A cotton-hooded milkmaid bends her brow.

The flowery river-ooze
Upheaves and falls; the milk purrs in the pail;
Few pilgrims but would choose
The peace of such a life in such a vale.

The maid breathes words--to vent,
It seems, her sense of Nature's scenery,
Of whose life, sentiment,
And essence, very part itself is she.

She bends a glance of pain,
And, at a moment, lets escape a tear;
Is it that passing train,
Whose alien whirr offends her country ear? -

Nay! Phyllis does not dwell
On visual and familiar things like these;
What moves her is the spell
Of inner themes and inner poetries:

Could but by Sunday morn
Her gay new gown come, meads might dry to dun,
Trains shriek till ears were torn,
If Fred would not prefer that Other One.

Love Comes, Love Goes

A Young Girl Leaning on a Window Sill   Rembrandt van Rijn

Let Love Go, If Go She Will

by Robert Lewis Stevenson

Let love go, if go she will.

Seek not, O fool, her wanton flight to stay.

Of all she gives and takes away

The best remains behind her still.

The best remains behind; in vain

Joy she may give and take again,

Joy she may take and leave us pain,

If yet she leave behind

The constant mind

To meet all fortunes nobly, to endure

All things with a good heart, and still be pure,

Still to be foremost in the foremost cause,

And still be worthy of the love that was.

Love coming is omnipotent indeed,

But not Love going. Let her go. The seed

Springs in the favouring Summer air, and grows,

And waxes strong; and when the Summer goes,

Remains, a perfect tree.

Joy she may give and take again,

Joy she may take and leave us pain.

O Love, and what care we?

For one thing thou hast given, O Love, one thing

Is ours that nothing can remove;

And as the King discrowned is still a King,

The unhappy lover still preserves his love.

Constancy

Man and Woman in the Street  Charles Angrand

Love and Friendship

by Emily Bronte

Love is like the wild rose-briar,
Friendship like the holly-tree
The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms
But which will bloom most constantly?

The wild-rose briar is sweet in the spring,
Its summer blossoms scent the air;
Yet wait till winter comes again
And who will call the wild-briar fair?

Then scorn the silly rose-wreath now
And deck thee with the holly's sheen,
That when December blights thy brow
He may still leave thy garland green.

Through the Eyes of Love

A Lady and Two Gentlemen  Johannes Vermeer

Sonnet 100
                  by William Shakespeare
Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget'st so long
To speak of that which gives thee all thy might?
Spend'st thou thy fury on some worthless song,
Darkening thy power to lend base subjects light?
Return, forgetful Muse, and straight redeem
In gentle numbers time so idly spent;
Sing to the ear that doth thy lays esteem
And gives thy pen both skill and argument.
Rise, resty Muse, my love's sweet face survey,
If Time have any wrinkle graven there;
If any, be a satire to decay,
And make Time's spoils despised every where.
Give my love fame faster than Time wastes life;
So thou prevent'st his scythe and crooked knife.