The windflower and the violet, they perished long ago,
And the brier-rose and the orchis died amid the summer glow;
But on the hills the golden-rod, and the aster in the wood,
And the yellow sunflower by the brook, in autumn beauty stood,
Till fell the first from the clear cold heaven, as falls the
plague on men,
And the brightness of their smile was gone, from upland glade and
glen.
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I have loved flowers that fade,
Within those magic tents
Rich hues have marriage made
read more
I have loved flowers that fade,
Within those magic tents
Rich hues have marriage made
With sweet unmemoried scents.
A flower, when offered in the bud, is no vain sacrifice.
A flower, when offered in the bud, is no vain sacrifice.
Who that has loved knows not the tender tale
Which flowers reveal, when lips are coy to tell?
read more
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 snowdrop and primrose our woodlands adorn,
And violets bathe in the wet o' the morn.
The snowdrop and primrose our woodlands adorn,
And violets bathe in the wet o' the morn.
Big doesn't necessarily mean better. Sunflowers aren't better than violets.
Big doesn't necessarily mean better. Sunflowers aren't better than violets.
Little things seem nothing, but they give peace, like those meadow flowers which individually seem odorless but all together perfume read more
Little things seem nothing, but they give peace, like those meadow flowers which individually seem odorless but all together perfume the air.
As for marigolds, poppies, hollyhocks, and valorous sunflowers,
we shall never have a garden without them, both for their read more
As for marigolds, poppies, hollyhocks, and valorous sunflowers,
we shall never have a garden without them, both for their own
sake, and for the sake of old-fashioned folks, who used to love
them.
Rose, what is become of thy delicate hue?
And where is the violet's beautiful blue?
Does aught read more
Rose, what is become of thy delicate hue?
And where is the violet's beautiful blue?
Does aught of its sweetness the blossom beguile?
That meadow, those daisies, why do they not smile?
Yet here's eglantine,
Here's ivy!--take them as I used to do
Thy flowers, and keep them where read more
Yet here's eglantine,
Here's ivy!--take them as I used to do
Thy flowers, and keep them where they shall not pine.
Instruct thine eyes to keep their colours true,
And tell thy soul their roots are left in mine.
