"Rosebud" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... as pretty as her sister—a judgment which proves conclusively the blindness of love; for Annis, though fair and comely to look upon, came no nearer to her young sister's beauty than does the pink-tipped daisy to the half-opened rosebud uncurling slowly in the sun. At present, the girl, seeing that she was watched, turned away her head pettishly and ...
— In the Yule-Log Glow, Book I - Christmas Tales from 'Round the World • Various
... from the lime walk outside; a sound which did but emphasize the quiet of the house and garden. At the end of the garden front Lady William entered a room which had a newer and fresher appearance than the rest. The walls were white; a little rosebud chintz curtained the windows and the bed. White rugs made the hearth and the dressing-table gay, and there was a muslin bedspread lined with pink and tied with knots of ...
— The Coryston Family • Mrs. Humphry Ward
... wild rosebud, Quite sallow now, and dry, Yet there's something wondrous in it, Some gleams of days gone by, Dear sights and sounds that are to me The very moons of memory, And stir my heart's blood far below Its short-lived waves of joy ...
— The Complete Poetical Works of James Russell Lowell • James Lowell
... Oh, no! They know me, every one of them, and they know that a sight of Uncle George and candy means the same thing. Some of them are the best kind of vote-getters. I'll tell you a case. Last year a little Eleventh Avenue rosebud, whose father is a Republican, caught hold of his whiskers on election day and said she wouldn't let go till he'd promise to vote for me. And ...
— Plunkitt of Tammany Hall • George Washington Plunkitt
... faded rosebud That a dearly loved one gave to me, In years now long past but remembered And shrined for the years yet ...
— Home Lyrics • Hannah. S. Battersby
... I watched a rosebud very long Brought on by dew and sun and shower, Waiting to see the perfect flower: Then, when I thought it should be strong, It opened at the matin hour And fell ...
— Goblin Market, The Prince's Progress, and Other Poems • Christina Rossetti
... bells Of the graceful columbine. But again it cometh, I breathe it yet, 'Tis the sigh of the lowly mignionette. And there, 'mid the garden's leafy gems, Blossomed a group of its fairy stems; Few would have thought of its faint perfume, While they gazed on the rosebud's crimson bloom. But to me it was laden with sighs and tears, And the faded hopes of by-gone years. Many a vision, long buried deep, Was waked again from its dreamless sleep. Thoughts whose light was dim before, Lived in their pristine truth once more. Well ...
— Sketches And Tales Illustrative Of Life In The Backwoods Of New Brunswick • Mrs. F. Beavan
... a greasy bit of string, A locket hangs with a woman's face, and I turn it about to see: Just as I thought . . . on the other side the faces of children three; Clustered together cherub-like, three little laughing girls, With the usual tiny rosebud mouths and the usual silken curls. "Zut!" I say. "He has beaten me; for me, I have only two," And I push the locket beneath his shirt, feeling ...
— Rhymes of a Red Cross Man • Robert W. Service
... by "French Charlie" since her arrival from Panama by steamer. No one knows if the reigning beauty is Havanese or a French Creole. Several aver she speaks French and Spanish with equal ease. English receives a dainty foreign accent from the rosebud lips. Her mysterious identity is guarded by the delighted proprietors. The riches of their deep-jawed safes tell of her wonderful ...
— The Little Lady of Lagunitas • Richard Henry Savage
... boutonnieres, like those worn by ushers at a wedding, and they are deputy hosts. It is their duty to see that wall-flowers are not left decorating the seats in the ballroom and it is also their duty to relieve a partner who has too long been planted beside the same "rosebud." ...
— Etiquette • Emily Post
... this sweet Rose taken. For the Rose-kind hath she earth forsaken. The Princess is the Rose, that here no longer blows. From the stem by death's hand rudely shaken. Then rest in the Rose-house. Little Princess-Rosebud dear! There life's Rose shall bloom again In Heaven's ...
— Henry James, Jr. • William Dean Howells
... spring rosebud which they wear Breaks short and tumbles from its stem, No thought of being angry ...
— Fly Leaves • C. S. Calverley
... "sleeping all these years in all this sun! Her mouth was not a rosebud. But all the same "Isn't she lovely!" Kathleen murmured. "Not so dusty," Gerald was understood to reply. "Now, Jerry," said Kathleen firmly, ...
— The Enchanted Castle • E. Nesbit
... a soft white silky stuff that clung to her round young figure like a fish's skin, and it was rippled over with the gracefulest little fringy films of lace; she had deep, tender eyes, with long, curved lashes; and she had peachy cheeks, and a dimpled chin, and such a dear little rosebud of a mouth; and she was so dovelike, so pure, and so gracious, so sweet and so bewitching. For long hours I did mightily wish she would speak. And at last she did; the red lips parted, and out leaps her thought—and with such ...
— Innocents abroad • Mark Twain
... o' jessamine, On whilk he daur'd to swim, An' pillow'd his head on a wee rosebud, Syne laithfu', lanely, Love 'gan scud ...
— Book of English Verse • Bulchevy
... herself. Nevertheless, it was there, and back of it lay another, still hazy, but also very real, the ambition to be an Annie and have a John Coulson and a brick house with white pillars and a Vision lying on a sofa waving ten pink rosebud toes in one's face. But these were things one would not breathe, ...
— 'Lizbeth of the Dale • Marian Keith
... pacing round the pond. Decidedly Winifred was a practical person and he was a dreamer. The pastry he dared not touch—being a genius—but he was charmed at the gaiety with which Winifred crammed cake after cake into her rosebud of a mouth. What an enchanting creature! how bravely she covered ...
— Victorian Short Stories • Various
... Beauteous Rosebud, young and gay, Blooming in thy early May, Never may'st thou, lovely flower, Chilly shrink in sleety shower! Never Boreas' hoary path, Never Eurus' pois'nous breath, Never baleful stellar lights, Taint thee with untimely blights! Never, never reptile thief Riot on thy ...
— Poems And Songs Of Robert Burns • Robert Burns
... conscience to tell you—" he went on without answering her,—"it has been on my mind ever since, that the other night"—and the look was grave for a minute—"the trophy of a broken rosebud was picked up where you fell. And I had not the heart to reclaim it, Miss Faith," Mr. Linden said, with ...
— Say and Seal, Volume I • Susan Warner
... among the women bending over their sewing that did not flush with delight as she distributed her gifts. Soon, as the news spread down the alley, rougher faces peered in at window and door, and great "navvies" and dock-labourers put out their hard fists for a rosebud with the shyness and delight of schoolboys. "She was a real lady," was the unanimous verdict of the alley; like Edward Denison she had somehow discovered that man does not live by bread alone, and that the communion of rich and poor is not ...
— Stray Studies from England and Italy • John Richard Green
... chamber; and as I conceived that the time was now come, I went in and sat myself down on a bench. No one, however, was yet there, save the constable and his young daughter, who was wiping the table, and held a rosebud between her lips. I was fain to beg her to give it me, so that I might have it to smell to; and I believe that I should have been carried dead out of the room that day if I had not had it. God is thus able to preserve our lives even by means ...
— Sidonia The Sorceress V2 • William Mienhold
... writing this with his usual slowness and precision, poor Dodd's heart overflowed. "It is my children's fortune, ye see: I don't look on a sixpence of it as mine: that it is what made me so particular. It belongs to my little Julia, bless her:—she is a rosebud if ever there was one; and oh! such a heart; and so fond of her poor father; but not fonder than he is of her—and to my dear boy Edward; he is the honestest young chap you ever saw: what he says, you may swear to with your eyes shut. But how could ...
— Hard Cash • Charles Reade
... affect his spirits much," said Lady Anne. "People who expect sentiment from children of six years old will be disappointed, and will probably teach them affectation. Surely it is much better to let their natural affections have time to expand. If we tear the rosebud open we spoil the flower." Belinda smiled at this parable of the rosebud, which, she said, might be applied to men and women, as well ...
— Tales and Novels, Vol. III - Belinda • Maria Edgeworth
... in my intelligence, and I drowsed off again to the pleasant rhythm of the wheels. The little shock of stopping next brought me to, somewhat, with the voices still round me; and when we were again in motion, I heard: "Rosebud! Portland 1279!" These figures jarred me awake, and I said, "It was 1291 before," and sat ...
— The Virginian - A Horseman Of The Plains • Owen Wister
... the cot until the blush rosebud that Miss Amanda had shyly pinned in his buttonhole as her good-by before she had retired, brushed the little fellow's cheek as he ran his arm under the sturdy little nightgowned shoulders and drew him as close as ...
— Rose of Old Harpeth • Maria Thompson Daviess
... good ingenious fellow, cried out, (which were the words of the text,) Thou art the man! By my soul I thought the parson looked directly at me; and at that moment I cast my eye full on my ewe-lamb.—But I must tell thee too, that, that I thought a good deal of my Rosebud.—A better man than King David, in ...
— Clarissa, Volume 4 (of 9) - History Of A Young Lady • Samuel Richardson
... back here from Boston to raise the country against the invasion. They say he was a highwayman once, but we Tories"—he laughed shamelessly—"say many things in these days which may not help us at the judgment day. Wait, there's that little rosebud, Claire Putnam, Sir John's flame. Take her in to table; she's a pretty little plaything. Lady Johnson, who was Polly Watts, is in Montreal, you see." He made a languid gesture with outspread ...
— The Maid-At-Arms • Robert W. Chambers
... ready. It was spread out on a little table by itself. The white cloth seemed to Ida the whitest she had ever seen, the silver and glass glittered, the china was covered with a rosebud pattern, and a reading-lamp threw a clear soft light over all. The tea, the cream, the brown bread and butter, the fresh eggs, and the honey—all were of the very best—even the waiting-maid was pretty, and had something of the old ...
— Mrs. Overtheway's Remembrances • Juliana Horatia Ewing
... natives, the more ornamental jewelry is worn, even if it be immense, heavy glass bracelets from Birmingham. Already one says, how simple, how grandly simple she was, with her hair plain, her ears unpierced, her head and neck without a single ornament, save only a rosebud in the hair. Jewels are to women what wine is to man—not recommended till after forty; and a poor help at ...
— Round the World • Andrew Carnegie
... household duties. But Miss Kitty had already seen him cross the road, and had lounged into the dining-room with an artfully simulated air of casually examining it. At the unexpected vision of his hopes, arrayed in the sweetest and freshest of rosebud-sprigged print, his heart faltered. Then, partly with the desperation of a timid man, and partly through the working of a half-formed resolution, he met her bright smile with a simple inquiry for her father. Miss Kitty bit her pretty lip, smiled slightly, ...
— Selected Stories • Bret Harte
... given to one and another, beginning with those least dear; very very affectionately to Mrs. Travilla, Aunt Wealthy, Rose, and the little Horace (the sleeping Rosebud had already been softly kissed in ...
— Elsie's Womanhood • Martha Finley
... I want you to come. Frankly, I've omitted to tell you of one disquieting report that has reached us. After the recent battle on the Rosebud, one of the warriors of Crazy Horse was captured by General Crook. The prisoner said that within a day's ride to the west of ...
— The Plow-Woman • Eleanor Gates
... fairest Of sweet summer time, Rosebud the rarest Plucked ere its prime, Mine to weep ever Where the wares beat, Meeting thee ...
— Poems of the Heart and Home • Mrs. J.C. Yule (Pamela S. Vining)
... compatriot of mine, do I then understand, With a cold Northern heart, and a rude English hand, Has injured your Rosebud of France? ...
— Lucile • Owen Meredith
... tell them to expect us by the 11.35 train. Of course Judy would have been asleep hours before you reached her to-night, so it does not really matter in the least. Now come upstairs and put on your very prettiest dress, that soft pink chiffon, in which you look as like a rosebud as a living woman can. I have capital news for you, Hilda, my love; Rivers certainly is a brick; he has got me ...
— A Young Mutineer • Mrs. L. T. Meade
... her finger to her lip, and smiled with the air of a lady benefactress; then, with a few words of official sympathy, she encouraged him to get well, and flitted to the next bed, where she bestowed a jacqueminot rosebud on a Chinaman ...
— The Minister's Charge • William D. Howells
... first destination. Montague Nevitt, besides being a man of business and a man of taste, was also in due season a man of feeling. A heart beat beneath that white rosebud in his left top button-hole. All his thoughts were not thoughts of greed and of gain. He was bound to Tilgate to-day, and to see ...
— What's Bred In the Bone • Grant Allen
... Dear little rosebud Maggie was the happiest of any, for she was to sit up until every scrap of the party was over; so everybody kissed her, and played with her, and showed her how to turn the platter, and she skipped and danced; and that dear little chuckling, ...
— The Two Story Mittens and the Little Play Mittens - Being the Fourth Book of the Series • Frances Elizabeth Barrow
... with which I used to be familiarly acquainted, there dwelt an elderly person of grim aspect, known by the name and title of Doctor Grimshawe,[Endnote: 2] whose household consisted of a remarkably pretty and vivacious boy, and a perfect rosebud of a girl, two or three years younger than he, and an old maid-of-all-work, of strangely mixed breed, crusty in temper and wonderfully sluttish in attire. [Endnote: 3] It might be partly owing to this handmaiden's characteristic lack ...
— Doctor Grimshawe's Secret - A Romance • Nathaniel Hawthorne
... returns he, with decision. He opens her pretty pink palm, releases the dying rosebud from it and places it triumphantly ...
— April's Lady - A Novel • Margaret Wolfe Hungerford
... cultivated spot there was, that spread Its flowery bosom to the noonday beam, Where many a rosebud rears its blushing head, And herbs for food with future plenty teem. Soothed by the lulling sound of grove and stream, Romantic visions swarm on Edwin's soul: He minded not the sun's last trembling gleam, Nor heard from ...
— The Poetical Works of Beattie, Blair, and Falconer - With Lives, Critical Dissertations, and Explanatory Notes • Rev. George Gilfillan [Ed.]
... bold hand, and looked, astonished, smiling, burning with bliss. There lay a beautiful maiden asleep and dreaming—ah! it was Rosalinde herself. In the sweet forgetfulness of sleep, unveiling herself like the outblown petals of a rosebud, she revealed her most secret charms in lovely fulness to the eye of night. Emil stood before her in the dear delusion of aroused passion and bent over her. 'Is not tonight my bridal night?', thought he. He reflected and the hot tumult of exulting senses tore him irresistibly. ...
— Sleep Walking and Moon Walking - A Medico-Literary Study • Isidor Isaak Sadger
... was as white as milk and she had a pair of big brown eyes, a pretty little Grecian nose and rosebud lips. ...
— The Bradys and the Girl Smuggler - or, Working for the Custom House • Francis W. Doughty
... to see how we're gettin' along, he's snoozin' calm and peaceful, with a sketchy smile kind of flickerin' on and off that rosebud mouth of his, like he was indulgin' in pleasant dreams. Also, them little pink fingers was still wrapped around ...
— The House of Torchy • Sewell Ford
... notices what a woman has on. I like a man who does notice—and tells me about it. I like a man who likes me better in silk than in drugget. I will wear this rosebud silk when I'm married, and it will be supposed to last me the rest of my life and be worn on all state occasions, and in time become an heirloom like Aunt Matilda's hideous blue satin. I want a new ...
— Lucy Maud Montgomery Short Stories, 1909 to 1922 • Lucy Maud Montgomery
... like most other loves— A little glow, a little shiver; A rosebud and a pair of gloves, And "Fly Not Yet," upon the river; Some jealousy of some one's heir, Some hopes of dying broken-hearted, A miniature, a lock of hair, The ...
— The Humourous Poetry of the English Language • James Parton
... to them all, and the tears dried on her cheeks, and her pretty rosebud lips curled ...
— Bebee • Ouida
... and not much over a half a mile across the neck. They reflected that in more than a hundred years the great river in all likelihood had cut through what Clark called the "Narost part," the necks of dozens of such bends. On the map they identified the Rosebud Indian Reservation to the west. The great Plains country into which they now were advancing seemed wild, lonely, and at times forbidding, and the settlements farther and farther apart. They were in cattle country rather than farming country ...
— The Young Alaskans on the Missouri • Emerson Hough
... daughter Ing'borg, the rosebud sweet, In quiet was she nurtured, as seemed meet: Protect her, lest the storm-king, with cruel power, Should fasten in ...
— Fridthjof's Saga • Esaias Tegner
... "points" in her which had a higher promise for maturity than Lucy's natty completeness. It was like the contrast between a rough, dark, overgrown puppy and a white kitten. Lucy put up the neatest little rosebud mouth to be kissed; everything about her was neat,—her little round neck, with the row of coral beads; her little straight nose, not at all snubby; her little clear eyebrows, rather darker than her curls, to match ...
— The Mill on the Floss • George Eliot
... that he could not sway by the power of his melody. He played a lullaby, and all things slept. He played a love-lilt, and the flowers sprang up in full bloom from the cold earth, and the dreaming red rosebud opened wide her velvet petals, and all the land seemed full of the loving echoes of the lilt he played. He played a war-march, and, afar off, the sleeping tyrants of the forest sprang up, wide awake, ...
— A Book of Myths • Jean Lang
... trees sang her to sleep with their rustling lullabies, the stars watched over her at night. The swans clothed her in their soft raiment, and the bees fed her with their honey. The beauty of the little maiden increased with her growth. Her brow was calm and pure as the moon, her lips red as a rosebud, and so eloquent that her voice sounded like a shower of pearls. But wonderful beyond compare was the expressive beauty of her eyes, for if she looked at you kindly you seemed to float in a sea of joy, if angrily it made you numb ...
— Fairy Tales of the Slav Peasants and Herdsmen • Alexander Chodsko
... that," said the lady smiling; "but, one minute, before we go in the dining-room: there's a beautiful souvenir rosebud over the window where I cannot reach it. Cut it and ...
— The Weathercock - Being the Adventures of a Boy with a Bias • George Manville Fenn
... cleared the torturer's little blue-eyed girl came toddling up to him for her usual half-hour's cuddle. It made a beautiful picture—the little mite with her father's merry eyes and her mother's rosebud mouth, sitting on the torturer's knee, her golden hair mingling with his beard. And how her silvery laugh brightened the place as she played her favourite game of stretching her rag doll on a toy model ...
— Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 158, April 28, 1920 • Various
... betimes, tubbed himself, shaved himself, perfumed his small person with bergamot, and then arrayed it in the ivy-bosomed shirt and the $75 suit of broadcloth. His toilet occupied just two hours and seventeen minutes. Ajax decorated the lapel of his coat with a handsome rosebud, and then the impatient swain tied round his neck a new white silk handkerchief, mounted his horse, and betook himself at a gallop to the village church. Ajax remarked with regret that the pace was too hot at ...
— Bunch Grass - A Chronicle of Life on a Cattle Ranch • Horace Annesley Vachell
... for me the treasures of your ripe experience. You have been a week in the country. I know you will give me a rosebud—a rare old-fashioned one, if you please, with a quaint, sweet meaning, for I see that such abound in this garden, and I am wholly out of humor with the latest mode in everything. Recalling your taste for homely, honest worth, as shown by your passion for Old Plod, I shall seek ...
— A Day Of Fate • E. P. Roe
... be asking too much," said my brother-in-law, "if I suggested that you should suspend this assault? I don't know what part of your face you eat with, but I usually use my mouth. I admit it's a bit of a rosebud, but that's no excuse for all these 'outers.' Yes, I know it's a scream, but I was once told never to put foie gras upon the nose or cheeks. They say it draws the skin. Oh, and don't let's have any comic nonsense ...
— Jonah and Co. • Dornford Yates
... comparison of this poor child? She—like a bit of her own gray lavender in the shadiest nook of the walled garden, tranquil there—sure not to be taken there, save to company with fine linen in some trim scented coffer, whilst this fresh glowing rosebud has grown up pure and precious in the very midst of the foulest corruption Christendom can show, and if I snatch her not from it, I, the innocence and sweetness, what is to be her fate? The very pity of a Christian, the honour of a gentleman, would urge me, even ...
— The Chaplet of Pearls • Charlotte M. Yonge
... fiend persisted in holding the painful picture before him. He seemed to see her graceful figure gazed at by a brutal crowd, while the auctioneer assured them that she was warranted to be an entirely new and perfectly sound article,—a moss rosebud from a private royal garden,—a diamond fit for a king's crown. And men, whose upturned faces were like greedy satyrs, were calling upon her to open her ruby lips and show her pearls. He turned restlessly on his pillow with a muttered ...
— A Romance of the Republic • Lydia Maria Francis Child
... not shun, Though the heavens are all aglow, For its feet a bath of snow,— Green Narcissus of the brook, Fearless leaning o'er to look, Though the stream runs chill below In a word, the crimson dawn, Sun, mead, streamlet, rosebud, May Bird that sings his amorous lay, April's laugh that gems the lawn, Pink that sips the dews up-drawn, Rock that stands in storm and shine, Bay-tree that delights to twine Round its fadeless leaves the sun, All are parts which met ...
— The Wonder-Working Magician • Pedro Calderon de la Barca
... dancing a cotillion. The dog has spoiled a fine piece of canvas; he is worse than a Harp Alley signpost dauber. There's no keeping, no perspective, no foreground. Why, there now, the fellow has actually attempted to paint a fly upon that rosebud. Why, it is no more like a fly than I am like—;" but, as he approached his finger to the picture, the ...
— Character Sketches of Romance, Fiction and the Drama - A Revised American Edition of the Reader's Handbook, Vol. 3 • E. Cobham Brewer
... witnesses of this scene, except a few who were restricted, and one fair girl who walked in the garden sobbing; and never did tears fall out of more beautiful eyes, or shed over such a sweet face the interest of sorrow. They gushed profusely on the rosebud in her hand; fit emblem of herself; for she had not yet broke into the bloom of womanhood. Where tears flow, despair has been already softened to sorrow, and smiles may yet shine out of the darkness, as the bow of promise bridges only a firmament of cloud. This poor creature, ...
— The Knickerbocker, or New-York Monthly Magazine, June 1844 - Volume 23, Number 6 • Various
... sat well down on her small head and put a shadow on her face. The slim roundness of her arms showed through the white silk shirt, and her low collar proved all the beauty of her throat and neck. She looked more than ever unplucked, untouched, like a rosebud. ...
— Who Cares? • Cosmo Hamilton
... youth, had thought her right and vindicated her capacity to judge for herself. He had been called often on this errand, and he had never refused to obey. For Elinor was very wilful, she had always been wilful—"a rosebud set about with wilful thorns, But sweet as English air could make her, she." He had come to her aid many a time. But he had never thought to be called upon by her in such a way as this. He folded the letter up carefully and put it in a drawer. ...
— The Marriage of Elinor • Margaret Oliphant
... of her senses in savage passion. But a few minutes before she had given him all a woman has to give. Now he met her with hang-dog visage, apologies from Austin, and milk-and-water asseveration of a lover's rapture. The most closely-folded rosebud miss of Early Victorian times could not have faced the situation without showing something of the Eve that lurked in the heart of the petals. So much the less could Viviette, child of a freer, franker day, hide her just indignation under ...
— Viviette • William J. Locke
... a breastplate of burnished gold. The little waves were mantling, dimpling, and seemed playfully striving to emulate the intenser glories of the heavens above. They now flashed into living light, now assumed the blushing hue of a rosebud, and here and there wreathed up into a diminutive foam, mocking the smile of youth when she shows her white teeth between her beauty-breathing lips. As I swung aloft, with a motion gentle as that of the cradled infant, and looked out upon the splendours ...
— Rattlin the Reefer • Edward Howard
... tinted, like a peach blossom, and so transparent that the blue veins could be plainly discerned as they made their delicate tracery across her low, broad brow. Her mouth was small, but expressive, and her lips red and fresh as a rosebud. She had glorious gray eyes, large and expressive, luminous and deep, which in repose spoke of peace and calm, but which, when excited by mirth or by a witticism, glowed and scintillated like wavelets in the golden light ...
— From Wealth to Poverty • Austin Potter
... her eyes. Her nose he thought a trace too severely perfect in its modelling, but redeemed by a broad and thoughtful brow, a strong yet absolutely feminine chin, and a mouth.... Well, as to her mouth, the young man selected a rosebud to liken it to; which was really quite a poor simile, for her lips were nothing at all like rose-leaves save in colour; but they were well-shapen and wide enough to suggest generosity, without being ...
— The Bronze Bell • Louis Joseph Vance
... to camp with him. I do not remember of ever in my life being more glad to see any person. He had brought a letter from home, from my father, and some Confederate old issue bonds, which I was mighty glad to get, and also a letter from "the gal I left behind me," enclosing a rosebud and two apple blossoms, resting on an arbor vita leaf, and this on a little piece of white paper, and on this was written a motto (which I will have to tell for the young folks), "Receive me, such as I am; would that I were of more use for your sake. Jennie." ...
— "Co. Aytch" - Maury Grays, First Tennessee Regiment - or, A Side Show of the Big Show • Sam R. Watkins
... was a pretty little girl of five or six years, with great brown eyes, yellow curls, and a rosebud face that dimpled adorably when she laughed. When Gordon saw her he recognized her instantly as the tot who had given her doll to the little dancer two years before. Her eyes could not be mistaken. She used to drive about in the tiniest of village carts, drawn by the most ...
— Gordon Keith • Thomas Nelson Page
... entered the room, Margaret arose and faced him. The Englishman was well dressed, and newly shaven, and wore a rosebud in his buttonhole. Evidently, he had spent some time over his toilet ...
— The Mansion of Mystery - Being a Certain Case of Importance, Taken from the Note-book of Adam Adams, Investigator and Detective • Chester K. Steele
... glanced around, her finger on her lips as if to warn him that walls have ears, and then with a light little laugh tossed the rosebud down to him. "Wait! I'll come and tell you," ...
— The Little Colonel: Maid of Honor • Annie Fellows Johnston
... fragrant. She was an English rosebud wet with morning-dew. She had all manner of attributes with which I was perfectly well acquainted. They loved with the ardour of two young and noble souls. (Your ordinary Englishman would not thus proclaim the nobility of his soul; but Paragot, remember, was half French—and ...
— The Beloved Vagabond • William J. Locke
... this time fourteen year ago this very month. Champ an' me was walkin' up an' down the street, an' he was tellin' me 'bout that serenade, an' how you'd give him a rosebud with pepper in it—Lord, Aileen, you was a case, an' no mistake! An' I was thinkin', too, what Champ said to me thet very night. He was tellin' 'bout thet great hell-gate of New York, an' he said, 'You've ...
— Flamsted quarries • Mary E. Waller
... what I ever see never amounted to much, but if it's more than YOU see, Rosebud, then it must have been consider'ble of a lot. Over in them Mashpaug woods, where you hail from, money kind of grows on the bushes, like huckleberries, I presume likely. Martha Phipps been over there berryin', ...
— Galusha the Magnificent • Joseph C. Lincoln
... and had nearly every young lady in the place convinced that he was secretly pining for her. He came swinging down his steps this bright June morning humming a tune in his deep melodious voice. He picked a rosebud and fastened it in his button-hole and strode down the street, stopping at the gate of every one of his friends—and who wasn't his friend?—to hail the owner and summon him to his work. He ran into "Rosemount," the big brick house where the handsome Miss Armstrongs lived, to make ...
— The End of the Rainbow • Marian Keith
... laid her; but his wife was absent, he needed not to be told where she was. He stood for a moment looking with unspeakable fondness upon the sleeping child, and then bending softly over her, he pressed one long lingering kiss upon her forehead. As he did so she smiled in her sleep, her rosebud lips quivered a moment, and then he heard her whisper, "Dear Percy!" It was enough; had he felt the least lingering hesitation about the carrying out of his plan, that unconscious appeal made by his sleeping ...
— The Missing Merchantman • Harry Collingwood
... day the rosebud gathers to itself, from earth and sky, Fragrant stores and ampler beauty, lovelier form and ...
— Reviews • Oscar Wilde
... her a white dress, which had a faint shade of blue mixed with the white. This gown, which exactly fitted her shapely figure, she put on, and around her neck and wrists she placed soft and delicate ruching. Then she went to the flower conservatory and selecting a deep-red rosebud, placed it against some dark green leaves and pinned it to her dress. Her hair was formed at the back in a large knot of gold, while over her beautiful brows it was brushed smooth, giving her a look like ...
— The Kentucky Ranger • Edward T. Curnick
... loved them so well; and they had all looked as glad as ever, and had laughed saucily in the sun, and not even a rosebud turned the paler as the poor still stiffened limbs went by ...
— Bebee • Ouida
... country wandered Southwind, with her rosebud mouth and golden hair. And wherever she went she scattered posies and violets ...
— Seven O'Clock Stories • Robert Gordon Anderson
... spake, he caught in his arms the Houri of the foreign race; he fastened his burning lips upon her rosebud mouth; and by the magic of her breath she drew him on to the Hall of ...
— The Continental Monthly, Volume V. Issue I • Various
... stalk through the land, ye say, This is God's doing. Is it not also His doing, when an aphis creepeth on a rosebud?" ...
— Earl Hubert's Daughter - The Polishing of the Pearl - A Tale of the 13th Century • Emily Sarah Holt
... impinion," returned our vis-a-vis, with a judicious tipping of the head to one side as she soused her dripping paste-brush over the strips. "Not but what 'Woven on Fate's Loom' is a good story in its way, either, for them that likes that sort of story. But I think 'Little Rosebud's Lovers' is more int'resting, besides ...
— The Long Day - The Story of a New York Working Girl As Told by Herself • Dorothy Richardson
... of the Spring; The rosebud's blush that leaves it as it grows Into the full-eyed fair unblushing rose; The summer clouds that visit every wing With fires of sunrise and of sunsetting; The furtive flickering streams to light re-born 'Mid airs new-fledged and valorous lusts of morn, While ...
— The House of Life • Dante Gabriel Rossetti
... the branches a gentle shake; but only the dew fell off in bright drops, and the flowers were still shut up. At last Birdie remembered how he had awakened his mother with kisses, and thought he would try the same plan with the roses; so he drew up his red lips until THEY looked like a rosebud, too, and bending down a branch with a lovely pink bud upon it, he kissed it softly two or ...
— Story of My Life • Helen Keller
... track, The long, broad grasses underneath Are warted with rain like a toad's knobbed back; But here May weareth a rainless wreath. In the new-sucked milk of the sun's bosom Is dabbled the mouth of the daisy-blossom; The smouldering rosebud chars through its sheath; The lily stirs her snowy limbs, Ere she swims Naked up through her cloven green, Like the wave-born Lady of Love Hellene; And the scattered snowdrop exquisite Twinkles and gleams, As if the showers of the sunny beams Were splashed ...
— Sister Songs • Francis Thompson
... man of humour and intrigue) as I am told, to share the social bottle with. And sometimes another disguised rake or two. No sorrow comes near their hearts. Be not disturbed, my dear, at his hoarsenesses! his pretty, Betsey, his Rosebud, as the vile wretch calls her, can hear ...
— Clarissa, Volume 2 (of 9) • Samuel Richardson
... had gone. Dionea, seated listless on the sands, leaned over the sea and took some of its water in the hollow of her hand. "Here," she said to the Lena of Sor Tullio, "fill your bottle with this and give it to drink to Tommasino the Rosebud." Then ...
— Hauntings • Vernon Lee
... stung to admiration by this flow of the right sort of talk, "Mr. Denney, did you ever read 'Little Rosebud, or is Beauty a Curse to a Poor Girl?' That sounded just like the detective in that—you remember—where he's talkin' to Clarence Armytage just after he's overheard the old lawyer tell Mark Vinton, the villain, 'If this child lives, you ...
— The Boss of Little Arcady • Harry Leon Wilson
... I had finished! I thought she was the sweetest thing in the world, sweeter than a rosebud under its sparkling web of dew when the rising sun ...
— The Woman Thou Gavest Me - Being the Story of Mary O'Neill • Hall Caine
... He looked down at the tempting curve of her red lips. They were round and full and soft as the petals of a half-blown rosebud, warm and tender and sweet, with just the least trace of puckering to indicate how they could meet the pressure of other lips. He felt his heart come pounding up into the region of his Adam's apple, and he trembled as he had not done ...
— The Wit and Humor of America, Volume V. (of X.) • Various
... enclose. All beyond was fern and heather, on the breezy, open moor; All within was sun and shelter, and the wealth of beauty's store. But I did not heed the fragrance of flow'ret or of tree, For my eyes were on that rosebud, and it grew too high for me. In vain I strove to reach it through the tangled mass of green, It only smiled and nodded behind its thorny screen. Yet through that summer morning I lingered near the spot: Oh, why do things seem sweeter if we possess them not? My garden buds were blooming, but all ...
— Poems Teachers Ask For • Various
... seemed concentrated were shaded by long, deep lashes of the darkest brown; a brow fair, noble, and expansive, at each side of which masses of dark-brown hair waved half in ringlets, half in loose falling bands, shadowing her pale and downy cheek, where one faint rosebud tinge seemed lingering; lips slightly parted, as though to speak, gave to the features all the play of animation which completed this intellectual character, and ...
— Charles O'Malley, The Irish Dragoon, Volume 1 (of 2) • Charles Lever
... is the hand-maid of dyspepsia, while even the empurpled grape is but a John the Baptist for appendicitis; that a rich thief has kleptomania and should be treated at a fashionable hospital instead of a plebian penitentiary, while even the rosebud of beauty is aswarm with bacilli, warning the sons of men to keep their distance on pain of death. If all the doctors discovered be true then life isn't half worth living—is stale, flat and unprofitable as a Republican nomination in Texas. When the poet ...
— Volume 12 of Brann The Iconoclast • William Cowper Brann
... jaw? Maybe the square-cut jaw and the firm, sweet mouth are more suitable for the married woman. They go well enough with the baby and the tea-urn, and the strong, proud man in the background. For the unmarried girl the dimpled chin and the rosebud mouth are, perhaps, on the whole safer. Some gentlemen are so nervous of that firm, square jaw. For the present, at all events, let us keep to the ...
— Idle Ideas in 1905 • Jerome K. Jerome
... he seemed to hate to speak; and wise, cautious conservatism, and gentlemanly dignity, was wrote down on his linement. Even the red rosebud in his button-hole looked dretful good-natured, ...
— Sweet Cicely - Or Josiah Allen as a Politician • Josiah Allen's Wife (Marietta Holley)
... character in the court of Cytherea, whose amours, were I to attempt them, would exceed in volumes, if not in interest, the chronicles of their native isle. Among the most interesting of the fairy group was the beautiful Louisa Rowley, since married to Lord L**c**les, and that charming little rosebud, the captivating Josephine, who, although a mere child, was introduced under the special protection of the celebrated Mr. B***, who has since been completely duped by the little intriguante, as also was hep second lover ...
— The English Spy • Bernard Blackmantle
... "Rosebud, if a Cowslip opens three leaves in one day and four the next, how many rosy leaves will there be when the ...
— Flower Fables • Louisa May Alcott
... a silver chalice once Of exquisite design, In shape 'twas like the human heart This little vase of mine. I plucked a rose and placed the flow'r Within the shiny cup, And drank the incense hour by hour The rosebud offered up. And as it opened leaf by leaf Its beauties spreading wide, I saw no blossom such as mine In ...
— The Death of Saul and other Eisteddfod Prize Poems and Miscellaneous Verses • J. C. Manning
... and that an ineffectual repining for the beautiful thing that has passed proves the intensity of our regard and love. It is not so; we might as well repine if we have loved a child, to find it growing up to strength and manhood. Because we have loved the rosebud, we need not despise the rose, and when the child loses its tender charm, when the rose drops her loosened petals on the grass, our love is a mere sentiment, an aesthetic appreciation, if we can only regret what is past. It is the fragrant charm, the echoing harmony of the spirit ...
— The Silent Isle • Arthur Christopher Benson
... had changed Eudocia from the rosebud to the rose, Made more perfect every feature, added many a gentle grace, And she made my heart her garden, there to dwell and find repose: Neither time, nor change, nor absence, could her love for ...
— Stories in Verse • Henry Abbey
... the most liberal opportunities to subside, and the judgement of mankind, as exemplified particularly in the more quickly-judging half of it: he had looked these things well in the face and then had dismissed them from his thoughts. He cared no more for them than for the rosebud in his buttonhole. It is the good fortune of a man who for the greater part of a lifetime has abstained without effort from making himself disagreeable to his friends, that when the need comes for such a course it is not ...
— The Portrait of a Lady - Volume 1 (of 2) • Henry James
... was just beginning to curl back. Then she went round by the edge of the brook which keeps damp one side of the orchard, where she found some single stems of forget-me-nots, shining in the dusk like beaded turquoise. She pulled some from the bottom of the half-dry ditch, and setting the pale moss-rosebud in the middle, she bound the whole together with a striped yellow and green withe. Then snipping the stacks with her pocket scissors, she brought the posy to Saunders, with instructions to wrap it in a dock-leaf and never to let his hands touch ...
— The Lilac Sunbonnet • S.R. Crockett
... it is that sleepy little girl, with golden curls, and a mouth like a half-blown rosebud. See, the small brass thimble has fallen to the floor, her patchwork drops from her lap, her blue eyes close like two sleepy violets, her little head is nodding, and she sinks on her sister's shoulder: surely it is she. ...
— The May Flower, and Miscellaneous Writings • Harriet Beecher Stowe
... the vanity or turn the head of a credulous and frivolous being? Do you call respect the singular habit of certain men to always find the eyes of the woman to whom they are speaking divine, to compare her mouth to a rosebud, her teeth to a string of beautiful pearls, and her form to the slender willow, and other stupidities of that kind? If that is the sort of respect and consideration that woman will lose if she goes into politics, ...
— The Woman and the Right to Vote • Rafael Palma
... young rascal has formed an attachment, and is very proud of her fiancee. She is an awfully pretty girl and quite athletic as well—in fact, his arm is not nearly so small as Johnny's isn't, and his carriage is perfect. Their eyes are lovely, while a poet would rave about his sweet nose, her rosebud mouth and their longs blacks ...
— Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 159, December 1, 1920 • Various
... of the creeper-covered house into a garden of roses, and stood with her hand on a green garden-seat; herself a rosebud bursting into perfection. ...
— The Tale of Timber Town • Alfred Grace
... my grandniece," she said. "Your grandmother was my half-sister. When I saw your dress, I felt sure you were related to her. I should recognize that rosebud silk if I came across it in Thibet. Penelope Saverne was the daughter of my mother by her first husband. Penelope was four years older than I was, but we were devoted to each other. Oddly enough, our birthdays fell on the same day, and when Penelope was twenty and I sixteen, ...
— Lucy Maud Montgomery Short Stories, 1904 • Lucy Maud Montgomery
... And if the rosebud dreamed e'er its awaking How soon its perfumed leaves would drift apart, Perchance 'twould fold them close to still the ...
— The Miracle and Other Poems • Virna Sheard
... hair and glistening robes, he trim and tight and jetty, like fairy and imp! It was so droll and pretty that talkers and dancers alike paused to watch them in a strange fascination, till at last, quite breathless and pink as a moss rosebud, Alice dropped upon a chair near her husband. He stood grim, stiff, and vexed, all the more because Peregrine had taken her fan and was using it so as to make it wave like butterfly's wings, while poor Charles looked, as the Doctor whispered to his father, far ...
— A Reputed Changeling • Charlotte M. Yonge
... laughing eye. I saw him glide down through many a street; Tears followed him like spring rain; And yet ever unheeding tears or prayers, He mattered his wild wild refrain, "Come away with me, sweet baby so bright, I love the young flowers of the rosebud's hue, What? mother would keep thee always in sight, And see the sad tears in those eyes so blue. Come with me, little one. All thorns and crosses for you are done, Mother will meet thee where all is fair, Grown to the height of the angels ...
— Victor Roy, A Masonic Poem • Harriet Annie Wilkins |
