Roses
Leigh Hunt
1784 to 1859
The rose, the flower of love,
Mingle with our quaffing;
The rose, the lovely-leaved,
Round our brows be weaved,
Genially laughing.
O the rose, the first of flowers,
Darling of the early bowers,
Ev'n the gods for thee have places,
Thee too Cytherea's boy
Weaves about his locks for joy,
Dancing with the Graces.
Crown me then; I'll play the lyre,
Bacchus, underneath thy shade;
Heap me, heap me higher and higher,
And I'll lead a dance of fire
With a dark deep-bosomed maid.
Leigh Hunt's Roses
I am busy working to bring Leigh Hunt's "Roses" to life through some unique musical arrangements and will have a full analysis of the poem here for you later.
In the meantime, I invite you to explore the poem's themes, structure, and meaning. You can also check out the gallery for other musical arrangements or learn more about Leigh Hunt's life and contributions to literature.
Check back soon to experience how "Roses" transforms when verse meets melody—a unique journey that makes poetry accessible, engaging, and profoundly moving in new ways.
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