With golden mantle, rings, and necklace fair, It likes her best to wear Only a rose within her golden hair. Rossetti

Why are Nature’s beauties felt? Oh tis thine in her we see! Why has musie power to melt? Oh! Because it speaks like thee. All that’s sweet, by Love’s decree, Has been made resembling thee! Thomas Moore

She listened with flitting blush, With downcast eyes and modest grace Nor well she knew could not choose But gaze upon her face. Coleridge

Gather ye rosebuds as ye may, Old Time is still a flying; And this same flower that smiles today, Tomorrow will be dying. Herrick

Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sicle’s compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But beats it out ev’n to the edge of doom. Shakespeare