A red rose is not selfish because it wants to be a red rose. It would be horribly selfish if it wanted all the other flowers in the garden to be both red and roses.
Love and a red rose can't be hid.
The red rose whispers of passion, And the white rose breathes of love; O, the red rose is a falcon, And the white rose is a dove.
Love planted a rose, and the world turned sweet.
A red, red rose, all wet with dew, With leaves of green by red shot through.
Give her two red roses, each with a note. The first note says For the woman I love and the second, For my best friend.
O, my luve is like a red, red rose.
Ah, on what little things does happiness depend.
A gratitude-heart Is to discover on earth A Heaven-delivered rose
I see trees of green, red roses too. I see them bloom for me and you. And I think to myself what a wonderful world. I see skies of blue and clouds of white. The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night. And I think to myself what a wonderful world
Long live the rose that grew from the concrete when no one else ever cared!
Their lips were four red roses on a stalk.
Our love is like a red, red rose... and I am a little thorny.
Oh my luve's like a red, red rose, That's newly sprung in June; Oh my luve's like the melodie That's sweetly played in tune.
Think of your pain like a bunch of red roses, a beautiful thorn necklace. Everyone has one.
I cast my heart into my rhymes, That you, in the dim coming times, May know how my heart went with them After the red-rose-bordered hem.
Here bloom red roses, dewy wet, And beds of fragrant mignonette.
Once a blooming red rose, full of streaming life in its veins. Now a wilting black petal rupturing with death and pain.
My mother says that pain is hidden in everyone you see. She says try to imagine it like big bunches of flowers that everyone is carrying around with them. Think of your pain like a big bunch of red roses, a beautiful thorn necklace. Everyone has one.
Red roses for young lovers. French beans for longstanding relationships
I know a little garden close Set thick with lily and red rose, Where I would wander if I might From dewy dawn to dewy night. And have one with me wandering.
My love is like a red, red rose That's newly sprung in June: My love is like the melody That's sweetly played in tune. How fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in love am I; And I will love thee still, my dear, Till all the seas gang dry. Till all the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt with the sun; I will love thee still, my dear, While the sands of life shall run. And fare thee weel, my only love. And fare thee weel awhile! And I will come again, my love, Though it were ten thousand mile.
She said that she would dance with me if I brought her red roses but in all my garden there is no red rose.
Ah, on what little things does happiness depend! I have read all that the wise men have written, and all the secrets of philosophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose is my life made wretched.
White rose in red rose-garden Is not so white; Snowdrops, that plead for pardon And pine for fright Because the hard East blows Over their maiden vows, Grow not as this face grows from pale to bright.
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