Here you will find the Poem Roses In Madrid of poet Isabella Valancy Crawford
Roses, Senors, roses! Love is subtly hid In the fragrant roses, Blown in gay Madrid. Roses, Senors, roses! Look, look, look, and see Love hanging in the roses, Like a golden bee! Ha! ha! shake the roses-- Hold a palm below; Shake him from the roses, Catch the vagrant so! High I toss the roses From my brown palm up; Like the wine that bubbles From a golden cup. Catch the roses, Senors, Light on finger tips; He who buys red roses, Dreams of crimson lips! Tinkle! my fresh roses, With the rare dews wet; Clink! my crisp, red roses, Like a castanet! Roses, Senors, roses, Come, Hidalgo, buy! Proudly wait my roses For thy rose's eye Be thy rose as stately As a pacing deer; Worthy are my roses To burn behind her ear. Ha I ha! I can see thee, Where the fountains foam, Twining my red roses In her golden comb! Roses, Donnas, roses, None so fresh as mine, Pluck'd at rose of morning By our Lady's shrine. Those that first I gather'd Laid I at her feet, That is why my roses Still are fresh and sweet. Roses, Donnas, roses! Roses waxen fair! Acolytes my roses, Censing ladies' pray'r! Roses, roses, roses! Hear the tawny bull Thund'ring in the circus-- Buy your arms full. Roses by the dozen! Roses by the score! Pelt the victor with them-- Bull or Toreador!
