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Canto the Second

I
Oh ye! who teach the ingenuous youth of nations,
Holland, France, England, Germany, or Spain,
I pray ye flog them upon all occasions,
It mends their morals, never mind the pain:
The best of mothers and of educations
In Juan's case were but employ'd in vain,
Since, in a way that's rather of the oddest, he
Became divested of his native modesty.

II
Had he but been placed at a public school,
In the third form, or even in the fourth,
His daily task had kept his fancy cool,
At least, had he been nurtured in the north;
Spain may prove an exception to the rule,
But then exceptions always prove its worth -—
A lad of sixteen causing a divorce
Puzzled his tutors very much, of course.

[...] Read more

poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Scraps of Cloud in Rosy Dusk

Scrap rosy cloud evening rays west lake good
Flower bank duckweed sandbar
Ten qing ripple peaceful
Wild bank without person boat self line

West south moon on float cloud scatter
Veranda railing cool born
Lotus scent clear
Water face wind come wine face sober
Scraps of cloud in rosy dusk- West Lake is good.
Flowers on the bank, duckweed on sand,
A hundred acres of peaceful ripples,
On the overgrown bank, no man- just the stroke of a boat.

South-west, across the moon, scattered clouds are drifting.
Cool rises at the terrace rail,
Lotus flowers' scent is clear,
Wind from the water's face makes the wine face sober.

poem by Ouyang Xiu
Added by Dan Costinaş
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The Rosy Hour

And in that rosy rosy hour,
When bird sang out and scented flower,
Came words to me from heaven above:
'Awake, young heart, awake and love!'

poem by Thomas Lovell Beddoes
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Die as rosy.

Time has capacity to rub the past.
The limping old is not known for his rosy youth
Nor the booming old for his dirty youth.
See that you die as one rosy, dirt unknown.
29.07.2003

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The crown and its pain

Don’t envy kings for their crown.
They had no rosy history;
Either murdered, killed in the battle,
Shot dead, feared dead by ghosts
Or slaughtered by wives’ agents,
They had no rosy history.
Don’t envy kings for their thrones.
25.04.2003

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Gold Fish

Two gold fish
Swimming in the jar
With their silky tails
Trailing behind
Like a veil
Of a bride
Looked so much alike
I never could say
Which one is which
Yet there was
Your fish 'the rosy'
And my fish 'the pinky'

It was good
The jar broke
And the pinky died

Unlike me
I am sure
It would not have

[...] Read more

poem by Rowving Smith
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Gertrude Stein met Marilyn Monroe in Tiffany's

a rose is a rose is a rose is a rose
and a dozen roses ring around a posy -
but a rose is not as rosy as a ring -
for diamonds are a man's best bet;

a rose is just a rose but the future could be rosy -
a diamond is a girl's best bait.
a rose is a rose but eventually goes off;
even love can have a nasty end;

but a man who's had his day can always be disposed of...
while diamonds are a lifetime friend...

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Destressed

When twilight falls in shades of blue.
I turn my gaze towards the west
where clouds adopt a rosy hue
The setting sun goes to his rest.
The rosy glow soon fades away.
Pale blue deepens to Indigo
and marks the passing of the day.
This is the hour when I know
The stillness and the quietude
the peace which will refresh my soul
My heart is filled with gratitude.
The silence plays a major role.
Each evening, anew I find
solace for my troubled mind.

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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One Night

The room was penurious and common,
Hidden over a disreputable tavern,
The alley could be seen from the window,
Unclean and narrow. From below
Came the voices of a few workmen
Who were playing cards and having a good time.

There on the vulgar on the humble bed
I had the body of love, I had the lips,
The sensuous, the rosy lips of wine,
Rosy with such a wine, that even now
Here as I write, after so many years,
In my solitary house, I am drunk again.

poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Rose Red

Oh rosy rose red
How adorable you are
In green garden’s bed
Like a summer star
Full of day's thrill
And a bouquets’ queen
Love’s passion to fill
Nowhere prettier seen

Blossoms of the light
In your silky red glow
Eyes adore and abide
When petals you show
Passion is your name
In your image striking
Red reddish hot flame
Love’s prettiest liking

Oh rosy rose red
In the autumn so fair

[...] Read more

poem by Peter S. Quinn
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