M and I have been reveling in all the beautiful roses blooming around us for the past two weeks, and we’re going to plant a bush in our yard tomorrow that my parents rooted from a bush in their yard that used to be at my grandmother’s house. So with roses on my mind, I share this sonnet
Sonnet 54 by William Shakepeare
O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem
By that sweet ornament which truth doth give!
The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
For that sweet odour which doth in it live.
The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye
As the perfumed tincture of the roses,
Hang on such thorns and play as wantonly
When summer’s breath their masked buds discloses:
But, for their virtue only is their show,
They live unwoo’d and unrespected fade,
Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so;
Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made:
And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth,
When that shall fade, my verse distills your truth.
The Poetry Friday round up is at Wild Rose Reader.
