“And loveliest sight of all, in front of the fire, stretched at full length, was his tiger – and on him – also at full length – reclined the lady, garbed in some strange clinging garment of heavy purple crepe, its hem embroidered with gold, one white arm resting on the beast's head, her back supported by a pile of the velvet cushions, and a heap of rarely bound books at her side, while between her red lips was a rose not redder than they – an almost scarlet rose.”
Three Weeks (1907), ch. 6.
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Elinor Glyn 9
British novelist and scriptwriter 1864–1943Related quotes
 
                            
                        
                        
                        
                                        
                                        Già l'aura messaggiera erasi desta
A nunziar che se ne vien l'aurora:
intanto s'adorna, e l'aurea testa
Di rose, colte in Paradiso, infiora. 
Canto III, stanza 1 (tr. Fairfax) 
Gerusalemme Liberata (1581)
                                    
 
                            
                        
                        
                        
                                        
                                        Pena, sung by Jeff Cotton, better known as Antennae Jimmy Semens 
Trout Mask Replica (1969)
                                    
 
                            
                        
                        
                        
                                        
                                        Assim como a bonina, que cortada
Antes do tempo foi, cândida e bela,
Sendo das mãos lascivas maltratada
Da menina que a trouxe na capela,
O cheiro traz perdido e a cor murchada:
Tal está morta a pálida donzela,
Secas do rosto as rosas, e perdida
A branca e viva cor, co'a doce vida. 
Stanza 134 (tr. William Julius Mickle) 
Epic poetry, Os Lusíadas (1572), Canto III
                                    
 
                            
                        
                        
                        
                                
                                    “Frail the white rose and frail are
Her hands that gave”
                                
                                
                                
                                
                            
                                        
                                        A Flower Given To My Daughter, p. 11 
Pomes Penyeach (1927)
                                    
 
        
     
                             
                             
                             
                             
                            