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 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. 
A kiss without a hug is like a flower without the fragrance.
A kiss without a hug is like a flower without the fragrance.
 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? 
 Flowers have an expression of countenance as much as men and 
animals. Some seem to smile; some have a read more 
 Flowers have an expression of countenance as much as men and 
animals. Some seem to smile; some have a sad expression; some 
are pensive and diffident; others again are plain, honest and 
upright, like the broad-faced sunflower and the hollyhock. 
 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. 
 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. 
 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. 
 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,