John Keats on Roses

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Its sides I'll plant with dew-sweet eglantine.
John Keats
Rain-scented eglantine Gave temperate sweets to that well-wooing sun.
John Keats
But the rose leaves herself upon the brier, For winds to kiss and grateful bees to feed.
John Keats
The vermeil rose had blown In frightful scarlet, and its thorns outgrown Like spiked aloe.
John Keats
And mid-May's eldest child, The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eyes.
John Keats
I saw the sweetest flower wild nature yields, A fresh-blown musk-rose; 'twas the first that threw Its sweets upon the summer.
John Keats