Foreign rose poems

The company directly patrolled the lawsuit and moved to the rose-Tang Xuyin and Fangfei moved from Yuetai, and the rose is the best. Jia Yan's compassion is better than painting. Whoever gives Jia Ming is a rose. Spring has turned into a splendid scenery, and the sky has dyed the sunshine of Qiong Yao red. Inviting guests early is to repay Zhu Yi, and don't let the hair fall on her face. Mei Song Yang Wanli has the same name as Guan Rose and has nothing to do with Rose Butterfly. Leaves and branches are green, and one flower and two colors are light red and deep red. Romantic love is rouge plaid, rainy love is private chemical industry. You can't accept a national fragrance without it. The poet sank into the water. Rose-Don Yan Qian's musk deer is burning, and the shark yarn is green. The official makeup comes at dawn, and the east wind comes from the brocade section. In the powerless spring smoke, in the melancholy yellow rain, I don't know what it means, and the depth is as red as two. Mr. Kunji, the Sherman in the Wind and Harmony, sang roses for assistant minister Xu Dong Lulun, and the lonely crane sent frost smoke and missed the evening fragrance. The old yin depends on Xie Zhai, and the new face comes out of the wall. Butterflies are scattered, and warblers enter the sunset. Rain hits brocade, and the wind and night drama burn incense. The sun breaks, the flowers bloom, and the loneliness is pale. There are few leaves in the earthquake and long branches in the movement. The film period is highly rewarded, leaving spring as a distance. I'm ashamed to be promoted to the church when I taste Joan Jiu. 1. william blake's "My Beautiful Rose Tree" Someone presented me with a flower; Such a flower that will never bloom. But I said I have a beautiful rose tree. I passed the sweet flowers. Then I went to my beautiful rose tree: I took care of her day and night. But my rose walked away jealously: her thorn was my only happiness. 2. When the rose withers, Walter de la Mare When the rose withers, the memory may still stay in her beautiful shadow, but the sweet dream has vanished. Disappearing loveliness, heavy breathing, no bondage of life, and no sadness of death. This is an immortal thought, and its passion still makes change unchangeable. Oh, so, your beauty, to me, is the loveliest on the earth, and the darkness without sadness shines and burns with you. 3. A little rose in bud emily bronte This is a little rose in bud, round like a fairy-tale sphere. It shyly opens its leaves and hides in a mossy robe, but its faint pungent smell from the invisible heart is sweet. Rose withered, withered, withered, its root felt like a bug, like a loved and despised heart, failed, withered and shrunk. Beautiful buds, beautiful flowers, I stole you from the gazebo where you were born. I am the worm that withered you, and all your dewdrops flow for me; Leaves, stems and roses all disappeared and were exiled to the place where they died. Yes, the last breath of fragrance is sadly mixed with the foreign breeze! 4. The grave and the rose Victor Hugo's grave said to the rose, "The flower of love, the dew of dawn, what are their endings?" "What kind of souls are those who unconsciously close the door of the grave?" Rose said to the grave. Rose said: "In the shade of the tears of the morning, it made a faint and strange perfume, amber and honey sweet." The tomb said to the rose, "all the ghost fleets have suffered from the changes of the sky. What is more strange than the dew is that the angels of God are all new." .