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.

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.

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.

Ah, ah, Cytherea! Adonis is dead.
She wept tear after tear, with the blood which was shed,--
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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.

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.

Fair flowers that are not gather'd in their prime rot and consume themselves in little time.

Fair flowers that are not gather'd in their prime rot and consume themselves in little time.

The windflower and the violet, they perished long ago,
And the brier-rose and the orchis died amid the summer read more

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.

Flowers grow out of dark moments.

Flowers grow out of dark moments.

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.