roses

Oh sweet roses of old, How lovely you did grow! Your petals soft and bold In vibrant hues aglow. From Queen Titania's bower, To Juliet's balcony fair, You bloomed in every hour, As love filled the air. In Hamlet's solemn plot, Your thorns did cause some harm, But still, you never forgot To grace a fair maiden's arm. And in the spring of life, As winter's chill did pass, You sprang forth without strife, A symbol of love en masse. Oh sweet roses of old, How lovely you did grow! Your story still untold, May your beauty forever glow English gardens In the old English gardens, Where the roses used to bloom, The fragrance of their petals, Would fill the air with perfume. Their shades of red and pink, Would mix and intertwine, Creating such a sight, It'd leave a memory in our minds. The thorns upon their stems, Would warn us to beware, But we would pluck them anyways, With roses in our hair. Though time has passed us by, And gardens come and go, The beauty of those roses, Is something we still know. For even in our dreams, We see that garden place, Where the roses still reside, And time can't be erased. Oh, the roses in old English gardens, Will forever be in our hearts, And the memories of their beauty, Will never be torn apart..