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William Butler Yeats

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Come near, come near, come near — Ah, leave me still
A little space for the rose-breath to fill!
Lest I no more bear common things that crave;
The weak worm hiding down in its small cave,
The field-mouse running by me in the grass,
And heavy mortal hopes that toil and pass;
But seek alone to hear the strange things said
By God to the bright hearts of those long dead,
And learn to chaunt a tongue men do not know.
Come near; I would, before my time to go,
Sing of old Eire and the ancient ways:
Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days.
--
To The Rose Upon The Rood Of Time

 
William Butler Yeats

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Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days!
Come near me, while I sing the ancient ways:
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A rose is a rose is a rose is a rose said my old friend Gertrude Stein.

 
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Why, what a wonderful piece of luck! Here is a red rose! I have never seen any rose like it in all my life. It is so beautiful that I am sure it has a long Latin name.

 
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Hope is like a harebell, trembling from its birth,
Love is like a rose, the joy of all the earth,
Faith is like a lily, lifted high and white,
Love is like a lovely rose, the world’s delight.
Harebells and sweet lilies show a thornless growth,
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The fairest things have fleetest end,
Their scent survives their close:
But the rose's scent is bitterness
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