Flowers. . . are a proud assertion that a ray of beauty outvalues all the utilities of the world.

Flowers. . . are a proud assertion that a ray of beauty outvalues all the utilities of the world.

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.

Gather the flowers, but spare the buds.

Gather the flowers, but spare the buds.

Earth laughs in flowers.

Earth laughs in flowers.

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.

Flowers are restful to look at. They have neither emotions nor conflicts.

Flowers are restful to look at. They have neither emotions nor conflicts.

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 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!

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.