My beautiful girl AlysonRose is 27 today, and so I give you roses for my Rosie!
***
ROSES by George Eliot
You love the roses — so do I. I wish
The sky would rain down roses, as they rain
From off the shaken bush. Why will it not?
Then all the valley would be pink and white
And soft to tread on. They would fall as light
As feathers, smelling sweet; and it would be
Like sleeping and like waking, all at once!
***
SUN-WORSHIP by James Russell Lowell
If I were the rose at your window,
Happiest rose of its crew,
Every blossom I bore would bend inward,
They’d know where the sunshine grew
***
SONG OF THE ROSE by Edith Nesbit
The lilac-time is over,
Laburnum’s day is past,
The red may-blossoms cover
The white ones, fallen too fast.
And guelder-roses hang like snow,
Where purple flag-flowers grow.
And still the tulip lingers,
The wall-flower’s red like blood
The ivy spreads pale fingers,
The rose is in the bud.
Good-bye, sweet lilac, and sweet may!
The Rose is on the way.
You were but heralds sent us—
All April’s buds, and May’s—
But painted missals lent us
That we might learn her praise,
Might cast down every bud that blows
Before our Queen, the Rose!
***
Morning Poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
The mist has left the greening plain,
The dew-drops shine like fairy rain,
The coquette rose awakes again
Her lovely self adorning.
The Wind is hiding in the trees,
A sighing, soothing, laughing tease,
Until the rose says “Kiss me, please,”
‘Tis morning, ’tis morning.
With staff in hand and careless-free,
The wanderer fares right jauntily,
For towns and houses are, thinks he,
For scorning, for scorning.
My soul is swift upon the wing,
And in its deeps a song I bring;
Come, Love, and we together sing,
“‘Tis morning, ’tis morning.”
This is the Mask 
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