Rose

On the other side Adam, soon as he Heard the fatal trespass done by Eve, amaz'd, Astonied stood and blank, while horror chill Ran through his veins, and all his joynts relax'd.

From his slack hand the garland wreath'd for Eve Down dropt, and all the faded Roses shed.

Speechless he stood and pale; till thus at length First to himself he inward silence broke.

O fairest of Creation, last and best Of all Gods works, Creature in whom excell'd What ever can to sight or thought be form'd, Holy, Divine, Good, Amiable, or Sweet; How art thou lost, how on a sudden lost, Defac't, deflower'd, and now to death devote! Rather how hast thou yeilded to transgress The strict forbiddance, how to violate The sacred fruit forbidden? Some cursed fraud Of enemie hath beguil'd thee, yet unknown, And me with thee hath ruin'd: for with thee Certain my resolution is to die.

Book three, part two.

No sooner had th' Almighty ceas't, but all The multitude of Angels with a shout Loud as from numbers without number, sweet As from blest voices, uttering joy, Heaven rung With jubilee, and loud hosannas fill'd Th' eternal regions: lowly reverent Towards either Throne they bow, and to the ground With solemn adoration down they cast Their crowns inwove with amarant and gold, Immortal amarant, a flower which once In Paradise fast by the tree of life Began to bloom, but soon for mans offence To Heaven removed where first it grew, there grows, And flowers aloft shading the fount of life, And where the river of bliss through midst of heaven Rolls o'er ELYSIAN flowrs her amber stream.

With these that never fade the Spirits elect Bind their resplendent locks inwreath'd with beams; Now in loose garlands thick thrown off, the bright Pavement that like a Sea of Jasper shone Impurpl'd with celestial Roses, smil'd.

Then crown'd again, their golden Harps they took, Harps ever tun'd, that glittering by their side Like Quivers hung, and with preamble sweet Of charming symphony they introduc'd Their sacred song, and wak'n'd raptures high.

Ahora recomiendan agua de rosas.

Eh, mucho-

¿Rosas?

Mucho menos.

Como hombre te perdono mis cadenas.

Dedication of the volume of 1817: To Lee Hunt.

Glory and loveliness have passed away, For if we wander out in early morn, No wreathed incense do we see, Upborne into the east, to meet the smiling day; No crowd of nymphs, soft-voiced, and young, and gay, In woven baskets bringing ears of corn, Roses and pinks and violets, To adorn the shrine of Flora, in her early May.

But there are left delights as high as these, And I shall ever bless my destiny, That in a time, when under pleasant trees, Pan is no longer sought, I feel a free, A leafy luxury, seeing I could please With these poor offerings, a man like thee.

End of poem.

End of poem.

This recording is in the public domain.

To a Friend who sent me some Roses by John Keats.

Read for LibriVox.org. 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.

Dwarf raspberry, white, hillsides, northeast to Pennsylvania, common.

DWARF WILD ROSE, DEEP PINK, DRY ROCKY BANKS AND FIELDS, NORTHEAST.

EVENING PRIM ROSE, PALE YELLOW, SANDY FIELDS, NEW JERSEY AND SOUTH.

FALSE INDIGO, VIOLET, RIVER BANKS, PENNSYLVANIA SOUTHWEST.

FEVERWART, BROWNISH PURPLE, RICH WOODLANDS, COMMON.

But far more ancient and dark the coombe looks, since they killed the badger there, dug him out, and gave him to the hounds, that most ancient Britain of English beasts.

If I should ever, by chance, If I should ever, by chance, grow rich, I'll buy Codham, Cockridden, and Childerditch, Roses, Pergo, and Lapwater, And let them all to my elder daughter.

The rent I shall ask of her Will be only each year's first violets, White and lonely.

The first primroses and orchises, She must find them before I do, that is.

But if she finds a blossom on firs, Without rent they shall all for ever be hers, Codham, Cochriden and Childerditch, Roses, Pergo and Lapwater, I shall give them all to my elder daughter.

What shall I give? What shall I give my daughter the younger, more than will keep her from cold and hunger? I shall not give her anything.

If she shared South Weald and Havering, their acres, the two brooks running between, Painsbrook and Wealdbrook, with Pee-wit, Woodpecker, Swan and Rook, she would be no richer than the Queen, who once on a time sat in Havering Bower alone, with the shadows, pleasures and power.

But in the last four years since I've started Cherish Plants, I can plant anything I like.

And so my first stop was at Ludwig's Roses.

And there's one out on the N1, a Justenberg Flachter.

And there's one here on Weinberg Hill Chart Farm.

That was on BBC recently.

From an album called A Blooming Body, this is Of Lettles and Roses.

Staring at the fire Holding your hair back

Letting go of every ounce of liquid freedom in there Pink petals unfurling of a growing rose The edge meeting nothing and just dancing Look west at the sunset.

The good news and the bad news is that things are always changing at the rate that they were changing before.

I I I I I

That was Cinderwell with Of Nettles and Roses.

Here's some tunes from that lovely new album by Caroline Keane, Rise.