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They are all in the lily-bed, cuddled close together--
Purple, Yellow-cap, and little Baby-blue;
How they ever read more
They are all in the lily-bed, cuddled close together--
Purple, Yellow-cap, and little Baby-blue;
How they ever got there you must ask the April weather,
The morning and the evening winds, the sunshine and the dew.
Yet marked O where the bolt of Cupid fell.
It fell upon a little western flower,
Before read more
Yet marked O where the bolt of Cupid fell.
It fell upon a little western flower,
Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound,
And maidens call it love-in-idleness.
Pray you, love, remember. And there is pansies, that's for
thoughts.
Pray you, love, remember. And there is pansies, that's for
thoughts.
I pray, what flowers are these?
The pansy this,
O, that's for lover's thoughts.
I pray, what flowers are these?
The pansy this,
O, that's for lover's thoughts.
Pansies? You praise the ones that grow today
Here in the garden; had you seen the place
read more
Pansies? You praise the ones that grow today
Here in the garden; had you seen the place
When Sutherland was living!
Here they grew,
From blue to deeper blue, in midst of each
A golden dazzle like a glimmering star,
Each broader, bigger than a silver crown;
While here the weaver sat, his labor done,
Watching his azure pets and rearing them,
Until they seem'd to know his step and touch,
And stir beneath his smile like living things:
The very sunshine loved them, and would lie
Here happy, coming early, lingering late,
Because they were so fair.
Pansies in soft April rains
Fill their stalks with honeyed sap
Drawn from Earth's prolific lap.
Pansies in soft April rains
Fill their stalks with honeyed sap
Drawn from Earth's prolific lap.
Heart's ease! one could look for half a day
Upon this flower, and shape in fancy out
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Heart's ease! one could look for half a day
Upon this flower, and shape in fancy out
Full twenty different tales of love and sorrow,
That gave this gentle name.
And there is pansies, that's for thoughts.
And there is pansies, that's for thoughts.
The delicate thought, that cannot find expression,
For ruder speech too fair,
That, like thy petals, trembles read more
The delicate thought, that cannot find expression,
For ruder speech too fair,
That, like thy petals, trembles in possession,
And scatters on the air.