Who that has loved knows not the tender tale
Which flowers reveal, when lips are coy to tell?
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Who that has loved knows not the tender tale
Which flowers reveal, when lips are coy to tell?
- Edward George Earle Lytton Bulwer-Lytton, first Baron Lytton,

A root is a flower that disdains fame.

A root is a flower that disdains fame.

Flowers are words
Which even a babe may understand.

Flowers are words
Which even a babe may understand.

Thick on the woodland floor
Gay company shall be,
Primrose and Hyacinth
And frail read more

Thick on the woodland floor
Gay company shall be,
Primrose and Hyacinth
And frail Anemone,
Perennial Strawberry-bloom,
Woodsorrel's pencilled veil,
Dishevel'd Willow-weed
And Orchis purple and pale.

And lilies are still lilies, pulled
By smutty hands, though spotted from their white.

And lilies are still lilies, pulled
By smutty hands, though spotted from their white.

Gather the flowers, but spare the buds.

Gather the flowers, but spare the buds.

Flowers. . . are a proud assertion that a ray of beauty outvalues all the utilities of the world.

Flowers. . . are a proud assertion that a ray of beauty outvalues all the utilities of the world.

Mourn, little harebells, o'er the lea;
Ye stately foxgloves fair to see!
Ye woodbines, hanging bonnilie
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Mourn, little harebells, o'er the lea;
Ye stately foxgloves fair to see!
Ye woodbines, hanging bonnilie
In scented bowers!
Ye roses on your thorny tree
The first o' flow'rs.

They know the time to go!
The fairy clocks strike their inaudible hour
In field and woodland, read more

They know the time to go!
The fairy clocks strike their inaudible hour
In field and woodland, and each punctual flower
Bows at the signal an obedient head
And hastens to bed.