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Blown roses hold their sweetness to the last.

John Dryden

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John Dryden
Age: 68 †
Born: 1631
Born: August 7
Died: 1700
Died: May 12
Hymnwriter
Literary Critic
Playwright
Poet
Translator
Aldwincle
Northamptonshire
Blown
Roses
Sweetness
Rose
Hold
Lasts
Last

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I trade both with the living and the dead, for the enrichment of our native language.
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I am devilishly afraid, that's certain but ... I'll sing, that I may seem valiant.
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New vows to plight, and plighted vows to break.
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He made all countries where he came his own.
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Mankind is ever the same, and nothing lost out of nature, though everything is altered.
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When I consider life, it is all a cheat. Yet fooled with hope, people favor this deceit.
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Softly sweet, in Lydian measures, Soon he sooth'd his soul to pleasures. War, he sung, is toil and trouble Honour but an empty bubble Never ending, still beginning, Fighting still, and still destroying. If all the world be worth the winning, Think, oh think it worth enjoying: Lovely Thais sits beside thee, Take the good the gods provide thee.
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The fool of nature stood with stupid eyes And gaping mouth, that testified surprise.
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