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In this article, we will explore a collection of poems about being alive - works that remind us to appreciate the wonders of existence. 1. "A Song of the Open Road" by Walt Whitman. Walt Whitman 's epic poem, "A Song of the Open Road," embodies the spirit of freedom and the joy of exploration.
Oct 4, 2019 · “maolros” writes about everyday joys that add zest to his life. In this poem, “musingmuztoba” examines the meaning of being alive from the point of view of a tree in a fast-growing town.
What are vain Hopes?—The puffing gale of morn, That of its charms divests the dewy lawn, And robs each flow'ret of its gem,—and dies; A cobweb hiding disappointment's thorn, Which stings more keenly through the thin disguise. Then what is Life?—When stripp'd of its disguise, A thing to be desir'd…
- A Red, Red Rose by Robert Burns
- The Lover Tells of The Rose in His Heart by W.B. Yeats
- To A Friend Who Sent Me Some Roses by Keats
- A Lesson from The Rose Bush by Howard Carleton Tripp
- The Rose Family by Robert Frost
- Nobody Knows This Little Rose by Emily Dickinson
- A White Rose by John Boyle O’Reilly
- Wild Rose Tree by Richard Watson Gilder
- Here’s A Blush Rose by L.L. Barkat
- One Perfect Rose by Dorothy Parker
O my Luve’s like a red, red rose That’s newly sprung in June; O my Luve’s like the melodie That’s sweetly play’d in tune. As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in luve am I: And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a’ the seas gang dry: Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi’ the sun: I will luve thee still, my dear, While t...
All things uncomely and broken, all things worn out and old, The cry of a child by the roadway, the creak of a lumbering cart, The heavy steps of the ploughman, splashing the wintry mould, Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart. The wrong of unshapely things is a wrong too great to be told; I hunger to build them anew...
As late I rambled in the happy fields, What time the skylark shakes the tremulous dew From his lush clover covert; when anew Adventurous knights take up their dinted shields: I saw the sweetest flower wild nature yields, A fresh-blown musk-rose, ’twas the first that threw Its sweets upon the summer: graceful it grew As in the wand that Queen Titani...
Beside a limpid stream a rose bush grew; Its blossoms filled the air with rich perfume, Upon it fell the summer’s sun and dew, The autumn gales swept roughly o’er its tomb. Such are the scenes of life, in childhood’s hours Hope comes to still the cares within the breast, And like the rose bush with its flagrant flowers Old age comes on and we are l...
The rose is a rose, And was always a rose. But the theory now goes That the apple’s a rose, And the pear is, and so’s The plum, I suppose. The dear only know What will next prove a rose. You, of course, are a rose But were always a rose. ****—-****—-****
Nobody knows this little Rose It might a pilgrim be Did I not take it from the ways And lift it up to thee. Only a Bee will miss it Only a Butterfly, Hastening from far journey On its breast to lie – Only a Bird will wonder Only a Breeze will sigh Ah Little Rose – how easy For such as thee to die! ****—-****—-****
The red rose whispers of passion, And the white rose breathes of love; Oh, the red rose is a falcon, And the white rose is a dove. But I send you a cream-white rosebud With a flush on its petal tips; For the love that is purest and sweetest Has a kiss of desire on the lips. ****—-****—-****
On the wild-rose tree Many buds there be; Yet each sunny hour Hath but one fair flower. Thou who wouldst be mine Open wide thine eyes In each sunny hour, Pluck the one perfect flower. ****—-****—-****
Here’s a blush rose, with raspberry scent. Here’s a pink, come taste the edge. And here, my dear, upon the stair, is simply the hip of a white-blue rose I’ve carried up to bed. ****—-****—-****
A single flow’r he sent me, since we met. All tenderly his messenger he chose; Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet One perfect rose. I knew the language of the floweret; “My fragile leaves, ” it said, “his heart enclose.” Love long has taken for his amulet One perfect rose. Why is it no one ever sent me yet One perfect limousine, do you ...
The theme of love is central to Christina Rossetti’s poem “The Rose.” Throughout the poem, the speaker compares the beauty and fragility of a rose to the fleeting nature of love. The rose is described as “fair and sweet, yet frail and fading,” just as love can be both beautiful and fragile.
Jun 2, 2020 · To paraphrase those famous lines which take the form of a rhetorical question (‘What is this life if, full of care, we have no time to stand and stare?’): what’s the point of being alive if we’re so full of the worries of day-to-day living that we cannot find time to stop and just admire the beauty of nature?
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Apr 5, 2024 · The rose in this poem carries a powerful message of life, death, love, and passion- but most of all, it conveys the inevitability of change. The rose is a symbol of the timelessness of life and represents the meaning of beauty and mortality.
