Read in these roses the sad story
Of my hard fate and your own glory.
In the white you may discover
The paleness of a fainting lover;
In the red the flames still feeding
On my heart, with fresh wounds bleeding,
The white will tell you how I languish,
And the red express my anguish;
The white my innocence displaying,
The red my martyrdom betraying,
The frowns that on your brow resided
Have those roses thus divided.
Oh! let your smiles but clear the weather,
And they they both shall grow together.
Thomas Carew
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