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Loveliest of lovely things are they On earth, that soonest pass away. The rose that lives its little hour Is read more
Loveliest of lovely things are they On earth, that soonest pass away. The rose that lives its little hour Is prized beyond the sculptured flower.
Flowers are Love's truest language; they betray,
Like the divining rods of Magi old,
Where precious wealth read more
Flowers are Love's truest language; they betray,
Like the divining rods of Magi old,
Where precious wealth lies buried, not of gold,
But love--strong love, that never can decay!
Ah, ah, Cytherea! Adonis is dead.
She wept tear after tear, with the blood which was shed,--
read more
Ah, ah, Cytherea! Adonis is dead.
She wept tear after tear, with the blood which was shed,--
And both turned into flowers for the earth's garden-close;
Her tears, to the wind-flower,--his blood, to the rose.
Flowers always make people better, happier and more helpful; they are sunshine, food and medicine to the soul.
Flowers always make people better, happier and more helpful; they are sunshine, food and medicine to the soul.
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.
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 flower, when offered in the bud, is no vain sacrifice.
A flower, when offered in the bud, is no vain sacrifice.
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.
The berries of the brier rose
Have lost their rounded pride:
The bitter-sweet chrysanthemums
read more
The berries of the brier rose
Have lost their rounded pride:
The bitter-sweet chrysanthemums
Are drooping heavy-eyed.
