Red Roses
From Paradise Lost by John Milton
chosen by Hannah
With thee conversing I forget all time,
All seasons and their change, all please alike.
Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet,
With charm of earliest Birds; pleasant the Sun
When first on this delightfull Land he spreads
His orient Beams, on Herb, Tree, Fruit and Flower,
Glistring with dew; fragrant the fertile Earth
After soft showers; and sweet the coming on
Of gratefull Evening mild, then silent Night
With this her solemn Bird and this fair Moon,
And these the Gems of Heav’n, her starry train:
But neither breath of Morn when she ascends
With charm of earliest Birds, nor rising Sun
On this delightfull Land, nor Herb, Fruit, Flower,
Gilstring with dew, nor fragrance after showers,
Nor gratefull Evening mild, nor silent Night
With this her solemn Bird, nor walk by Moon,
Or glittering Star-light without thee is sweet.
But wherefore all night long shine these, for whom
This glorious fight, when sleep hath shut all eyes?
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