I have loved flowers that fade,
Within those magic tents
Rich hues have marriage made
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I have loved flowers that fade,
Within those magic tents
Rich hues have marriage made
With sweet unmemoried scents.

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,

The berries of the brier rose
Have lost their rounded pride:
The bitter-sweet chrysanthemums
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The berries of the brier rose
Have lost their rounded pride:
The bitter-sweet chrysanthemums
Are drooping heavy-eyed.

Art is the unceasing effort to compete with the beauty of flowers - and never succeeding.

Art is the unceasing effort to compete with the beauty of flowers - and never succeeding.

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.

I am following Nature without being able to grasp her . . . . I perhaps owe having become a read more

I am following Nature without being able to grasp her . . . . I perhaps owe having become a painter to flowers.

Earth laughs in flowers.

Earth laughs in flowers.

Brazen helm of daffodillies,
With a glitter toward the light.
Purple violets for the mouth,
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Brazen helm of daffodillies,
With a glitter toward the light.
Purple violets for the mouth,
Breathing perfumes west and south;
And a sword of flashing lilies,
Holden ready for the fight.

The earth laughs in flowers.

The earth laughs in flowers.