Flowers

"Flowers are the sweetest things that God ever made, and forgot to put a soul into."

"The bud may have a bitter taste, But sweet will be the flower."

"Not a flower But shows some touch, in freckle, streak or stain, Of his unrivall'd pencil."

"As for mortal man, his days are like those of green grass;"

"How cruel of you. What part of what you see here is carefree? If only you could understand the sadness of the ones who grow the delicate flowers of buffoonery, protecting them from but the slightest gust of wind and always on the verge of despair!"

"But the flower leaned aside And thought of naught to say, And morning found the breeze A hundred miles away."

"There grew a little flower 'Neath a great oak tree: When the tempest 'gan to lower Little heeded she: No need had she to cower, For she dreaded not its power – She was happy in the bower Of her great oak tree! Of her great oak tree! Sing hey, Lackaday! Sing hey, Lackaday! Let the tears fall free For the pretty little flower And the great oak tree!"

"The flower is the poetry of reproduction. It is an example of the eternal seductiveness of life."

"Full many a flower is born to blush unseen And waste its sweetness on the desert air."

"Gather ye Rose-buds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying; And this same flower that smiles to-day, To-morrow will be dying."

"Go, happy rose, and, interwove With other flowers, bind my love. Tell her, too, she must not be Longer flowing, longer free, That so oft has fetter'd me."

"Yellow japanned buttercups and star-disked dandelions, just as we see them lying in the grass, like sparks that have leaped from the kindling sun of summer."

"Above his head Four lily stalks did their white honours wed To make a coronal; and round him grew All tendrils green, of every bloom and hue, Together intertwined and trammell'd fresh; The vine of glossy sprout; the ivy mesh, Shading its Ethiop berries."

"Young playmates of the rose and daffodil, Be careful ere ye enter in, to fill Your baskets high With fennel green, and balm, and golden pines Savory latter-mint, and columbines."

"I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled; That every Hyacinth the Garden wears Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head."

"One thing is certain and the rest is lies; The Flower that once has blown for ever dies."

"There were flowers in her hair Like an April diadem;"

"It is so wrong to think of the beauty of flowers only when they are at their height of blooming; bud and half developed flower, fading blossom and seed pod are as lovely, and often more interesting."

"Dear common flower, that grow'st beside the way, Fringing the dusty road with harmless gold, First pledge of blithesome May, Which children pluck, and, full of pride uphold."

""Aye," said Math, "let us seek, thou and I, by our magic and enchantment to conjure a wife for him out of flowers"...And then they took the flowers of the oak, and the flowers of the broom, and the flowers of the meadowsweet, and from those they called forth the very fairest and best endowed maiden that mortal ever saw, and baptized her with the baptism they used at that time, and named her Blodeuedd."

"Anemones and seas of gold, And new-blown lilies of the river, And those sweet flow'rets that unfold Their buds on Camadera's quiver."

"There is that in the glance of a flower which may at times control the greatest of creation's braggart lords."

"Where flowers degenerate man cannot live."

"Say it with flowers."

"I read flowers, not scriptures."

"I know that as night and shadows are good for flowers, and moonlight and dews are better than a continual sun, so is Christ's absence of special use, and that it hath some nourishing virtue in it, and giveth sap to humility, and putteth an edge on hunger, and furnisheth a fair field for faith to put forth itself."

"Color is the ultimate in art. It is still and will always remain a mystery to us, we can only apprehend it intuitively in flowers."

"Thou shalt not lack The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose, nor The azur'd harebell, like thy veins."

"These flowers are like the pleasures of the world."

"When daisies pied, and violets blue, And lady-smocks all silver-white, And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Do paint the meadows with delight."

"In emerald tufts, flowers purple, blue, and white; Like sapphire, pearl and rich embroidery."

"I know a bank, where the wild thyme blows Where ox-lips, and the nodding violet grows; Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine."

"To strew thy green with flowers; the yellows, blues, The purple violets, and marigolds."

"The fairest flowers o' the season Are our carnations and streak'd gillyvors."

"No matter how expensive or beautiful the vase, without the flower, it has no meaning."

"Age cannot Love destroy, But perfidy can blast the flower, Even when in most unwary hour It blooms in Fancy's bower. Age cannot Love destroy, But perfidy can rend the shrine In which its vermeil splendours shine."

"The awful shadow of some unseen Power Floats though unseen among us; visiting This various world with as inconstant wing As summer winds that creep from flower to flower; Like moonbeams that behind some piny mountain shower, It visits with inconstant glance Each human heart and countenance; Like hues and harmonies of evening, Like clouds in starlight widely spread, Like memory of music fled, Like aught that for its grace may be Dear, and yet dearer for its mystery."

"There grew pied wind-flowers and violets, Daisies, those pearl'd Arcturi of the earth, The constellated flower that never sets; Faint oxlips; tender bluebells at whose birth The sod scarce heaved; and that tall flower that wets Its mother's face with heaven-collected tears, When the low wind, its playmate's voice, it hears."

"And like a prophetess of May Strewed flowers upon the barren way, Making the wintry world appear Like one on whom thou smilest, dear."

"So passeth, in the passing of a day, Of mortal life, the leaf, the bud, the flower; No more doth flourish after first decay, That erst was sought to deck both bed and bower Of many a lady and many a paramour. Gather therefore the rose whilst yet in prime, For soon comes age that will her pride deflower. Gather the rose of love whilst yet in time, Whilst loving thou mayst loved be with equal crime."

"Roses red and violets blew, And all the sweetest flowres that in the forrest grew."

"There has fallen a splendid tear From the passion-flower at the gate. She is coming, my dove, my dear; She is coming, my life, my fate; The red rose cries, "She is near, she is near;" And the white rose weeps, "She is late;" The larkspur listens, "I hear, I hear;" And the lily whispers, "I wait.""

"The slender acacia would not shake One long milk-bloom on the tree; The white lake-blossom fell into the lake As the pimpernel dozed on the lea; But the rose was awake all night for your sake, Knowing your promise to me; The lilies and roses were all awake, They sighed for the dawn and thee."

"The daisy, primrose, violet darkly blue; And polyanthus of unnumbered dyes."

"One morning just after sunrise: The first flower ever to appear on the planet opens up to receive the rays of the sun. Prior to this momentous event that heralds an evolutionary transformation in the life of plants, the planet had already been covered in vegetation for millions of years... Much later, those delicate and fragrant beings we call flowers would come to play an essential part in the evolution of consciousness of another species. Humans would increasingly be drawn to and fascinated by them. As the consciousness of human beings developed, flowers were most likely the first thing they came to value that had no utilitarian purpose for them, that is to say, was not linked in some way to survival. They provided inspiration to countless artists, poets, and mystics... Jesus tells us to contemplate the flowers and learn from then how to live. The Buddha is said to have given a “silent sermon” once during which he held up a flower and gazed at it. After a while, one of those present, a monk called Mahakasyapa, began to smile... Seeing beauty in a flower could awaken humans, however briefly, to the beauty that is an essential part of their own innermost being, their true nature."

"The first recognition of beauty was one of the most significant events in the evolution of human consciousness. The feelings of joy and love are intrinsically connected to that recognition. Without our fully realizing it, flowers would become for us an expression in form of that which is most high, most sacred, and ultimately formless within ourselves. Flowers... would become like messengers from another realm, like a bridge between the world of physical forms and the formless. They not only had a scent that was delicate and pleasing to humans, but also brought a fragrance from the realm of spirit. Using the word “enlightenment” in a wider sense than the conventionally accepted one, we could look upon flowers as the enlightenment of plants."

"One cannot grow fine flowers in a thin soil."

"Now when the primrose makes a splendid show, And lilies face the March-winds in full blow, And humbler growths as moved with one desire Put on, to welcome spring, their best attire, Poor Robin is yet flowerless; but how gay With his red stalks upon this sunny day!"

"To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears."

"Flowers of all hue, and without thorn the rose."

"A wilderness of sweets."

"The bright consummate flower."

"And touched by her fair tendance, gladlier grew."

"Just then return'd at shut of evening flowers."

"Sweet letters of the angel tongue, I've loved ye long and well, And never have failed in your fragrance sweet To find some secret spell, , A charm that has bound me with witching power, For mine is the old belief, That midst your sweets and midst your bloom, There's a soul in every leaf!"

"Take the flower from my breast, I pray thee, Take the flower, too, from out my tresses: And then go hence; for, see, the night is fair, The stars rejoice to watch thee on thy way."

"As for marigolds, poppies, hollyhocks, and valorous sunflowers, we shall never have a garden without them, both for their own sake, and for the sake of old-fashioned folks, who used to love them."

"Flowers have an expression of countenance as much as men or 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 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!"

"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 whose magic tents Rich hues have marriage made With sweet unmemoried scents."

"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."

"Ah, ah, Qytherea! Adonis is dead. She wept tear after tear, with the blood which was shed, , And both turned into flowers for the earth's Her tears, to the wind-flower, his blood, to the rose."

"The flower-girl's prayer to buy roses and pinks, Held out in the smoke, like stars by day."

"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."

"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 frost from the clear cold heaven, as falls the plague on men, And the brightness of their smile was gone, from upland glade and glen."

"Where fall the tears of love the rose appears, And where the ground is bright with friendship's tears, Forget-me-not, and violets, heavenly blue, Spring glittering with the cheerful drops like dew."

"Who that has loved knows not the tender tale Which flowers reveal, when lips are coy to tell?"

"Mourn, little harebells, o'er the lea; Ye stately foxgloves fair to see! Ye woodbines, hanging bonnilie In scented bowers! Ye roses on your thorny tree The first o' flow'rs."

"Now blooms the lily by the bank, The primrose down the brae; The hawthorn's budding in the glen, And milkwhite is the slae."

"The snowdrop and primrose our woodlands adorn, And violets bathe in the wet o' the morn."

"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?"

"Ye field flowers! the gardens eclipse you 'tis true: Yet wildings of nature, I dote upon you, For ye waft me to summers of old, When the earth teem'd around me with fairy delight, And when daisies and buttercups gladden 'd my sight, Like treasures of silver and gold."

"The berries of the brier rose Have lost their rounded pride: The bitter-sweet chrysanthemums Are drooping heavy-eyed."

"I know not which I love the most, Nor which the comeliest shows, The timid, bashful violet Or the royal-hearted rose: The pansy in her purple dress, The pink with cheek of red, Or the faint, fair heliotrope, who hangs, Like a bashful maid her head."

"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 hastes to bed."

"Flowers are words Which even a babe may understand."

"And all the meadows, wide unrolled, Were green and silver, green and gold, Where buttercups and daisies spun Their shining tissues in the sun."

"The harebells nod as she passes by, The violet lifts its tender eye, The ferns bend her steps to greet, And the mosses creep to her dancing feet."

"Up from the gardens floated the perfume Of roses and myrtle, in their perfect bloom."

"The rose is fragrant, but it fades in time: The violet sweet, but quickly past the prime* White lilies hang their heads, and soon decay, And white snow in minutes melts away."

"The flowers of the forest are a' wede away."

"Why does the rose her grateful fragrance yield, And yellow cowslips paint the smiling field?"

"They speak of hope to the fainting heart, With a voice of promise they come and part, They sleep in dust through the wintry hours, They break forth in glory, bring flowers, bright flowers!"

"Through the laburnum's dropping gold Rose the light shaft of orient mould, And Europe's violets, faintly sweet, Purpled the moss-beds at its feet."

"Faire pledges of a fruitful tree Why do yee fall so fast? Your date is not so past But you may stay yet here awhile To blush and gently smile And go at last."

"The daisy is fair, the day-lily rare, The bud o' the rose as sweet as it's bonnie."

"What are the flowers of Scotland, All others that excel? The lovely flowers of Scotland, All others that excel! The thistle's purple bonnet, And bonny heather bell, Oh, they're the flowers of Scotland. All others that excel!"

"I remember, I remember The roses, red and white, The violets, and the lily-cups, Those flowers made of light! The lilacs, where the robin built, And where my brother set The laburnum on his birthday, , The tree is living yet."

"I may not to the world impart The secret of its power, But treasured in my inmost heart I keep my faded flower."

"'Tis but a little faded flower, But oh, how fondly dear! 'Twill bring me back one golden hour, Through many a weary year."

"Growing one's own choice words and fancies In orange tubs, and beds of pansies; One's sighs and passionate declarations, In odorous rhetoric of carnations."

"Roses, and pinks, and violets, to adorn The shrine of Flora in her early May."

"the rose Blendeth its odor with the violet, Solution sweet."

"And O and O, The daisies blow, And the primroses are waken'd; And the violets white Sit in silver plight, And the green bud's as long as the spike end."

"Underneath large blue-bells tented Where the daisies are rose-scented, And the rose herself has got Perfume which on earth is not."

"And the rose herself has got Perfume which on earth is not."

"The loveliest flowers the closest cling to earth, And they first feel the sun: so violets blue; So the soft star-like primrose, drenched in dew , The happiest of Spring's happy, fragrant birth."

"Spake full well, in language quaint and olden, One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine, When he called the flowers, so blue and golden, Stars, that in the earth's firmament do shine."

"Gorgeous flowerets in the sunlight shining, Blossoms flaunting in the eye of day, Tremulous leaves, with soft and silver lining, Buds that open only to decay."

"The flaming rose gloomed swarthy red; The borage gleams more blue; And low white flowers, with starry head, Glimmer the rich dusk through."

"And I will make thee beds of roses, And a thousand fragrant posies."

"The foxglove, with its stately bells Of purple, shall adorn thy dells; The wallflower, on each rifted rock, From liberal blossoms shall breathe down, (Gold blossoms frecked with iron-brown,) Its fragrance; while the hollyhock, The pink, and the carnation vie With lupin and with lavender, To decorate the fading year; And larkspurs, many-hued, shall drive Gloom from the groves, where red leaves lie, And Nature seems but half alive."

"Yet, no, not words, for they But half can tell love's feeling; Sweet flowers alone can say What passion fears revealing: A once bright rose's wither'd leaf, A tow'ring lily broken, , Oh, these may paint a grief No words could e'er have spoken."

"The Wreath's of brightest myrtle wove With brilliant tears of bliss among it, And many a rose leaf cull'd by Love To heal his lips when bees have stung it."

"Forget-me-not, and violets, heavenly blue, Spring, glittering with the cheerful drops like dew."

"A milkweed, and a buttercup, and cowslip," said sweet Mary, "Are growing in my garden-plot, and this I call my dairy."

""Of what are you afraid, my child?" inquired the kindly teacher. "Oh, sir! the flowers, they are wild," replied the timid creature."

"He bore a simple wild-flower wreath: Narcissus, and the sweet brier rose; Vervain, and flexile thyme, that breathe Rich fragrance; modest heath, that glows With purple bells; the amaranth bright, That no decay, nor fading knows, Like true love's holiest, rarest light; And every purest flower, that blows In that sweet time, which Love most blesses, When spring on summer's confines presses."

"In Eastern lands they talk in flowers, And they tell in a garland their loves and cares; Each blossom that blooms in their garden bowers, On its leaves a mystic language Dears."

"Here blushing Flora paints th' enamell'd ground."

"Here eglantine embalm'd the air, Hawthorne and hazel mingled there; The primrose pale, and violet flower, Found in each cliff a narrow bower; Fox-glove and nightshade, side by side, Emblems of punishment and pride, Group'd their dark hues with every stain The weather-beaten crags retain."

"There grew pied wind-flowers and violets, Daisies, those pearled Arcturi of the earth, The constellated flower that never sets."

"Day stars ! that ope your frownless eyes to twinkle From rainbow galaxies of earth's creation, And dew-drops on her lonely altars sprinkle As a libation."

"Ye bright Mosaics! that with storied beauty, The floor of Nature's temple tesselate, What numerous emblems of instructive duty Your forms create!"

"Sweet is the rose, but grows upon a brere; Sweet is the juniper, but sharp his bough; Sweet is the eglantine, but sticketh nere; Sweet is the firbloome, but its braunches rough; Sweet is the cypress, but its rynd is tough; Sweet is the nut, but bitter is his pill; Sweet is the broome-flowre, but yet sowre enough; And sweet is moly, but his root is ill."

"The violets ope their purple heads; The roses blow, the cowslip springs."

"Primrose-eyes each morning ope In their cool, deep beds of grass; Violets make the air that pass Tell-tales of their fragrant slope."

"The aquilegia sprinkled on the rocks A scarlet rain; the yellow violet Sat in the chariot of its leaves; the phlox Held spikes of purple flame in meadows wet, And all the streams with vernal-scented reed Were fringed, and streaky bells of miskodeed."

"With roses musky-breathed, And drooping daffodilly, And silver-leaved lily. And ivy darkly-wreathed, I wove a crown before her, For her I love so dearly."

"The gold-eyed kingcups fine, The frail bluebell peereth over Rare broidery of the purple clover."

"Here are cool mosses deep, And thro' the moss the ivies creep, And in the stream the long-leaved flowers weep, And from the craggy ledge the poppy hangs in sleep."

"Earth, 114 million years ago, one morning just after sunrise: The first flower ever to appear on the planet opens up to receive the rays of the sun. Prior to this momentous event that heralds an evolutionary transformation in the life of plants, the planet had already been covered in vegetation for millions of years. The first flower probably did not survive for long, and flowers must have remained rare and isolated phenomena, since conditions were most likely not yet favorable for a widespread flowering to occur. One day, however, a critical threshold was reached, and suddenly there would have been an explosion of color and scent all over the planet – if a perceiving consciousness had been there to witness it. Much later, those delicate and fragrant beings we call flowers would come to play an essential part in the evolution of consciousness of another species. Humans would increasingly be drawn to and fascinated by them."

"As the consciousness of human beings developed, flowers were most likely the first thing they came to value that had no utilitarian purpose for them, that is to say, was not linked in some way to survival. They provided inspiration to countless artists, poets, and mystics. Jesus tells us to contemplate the flowers and learn from then how to live. The Buddha is said to have given a “silent sermon” once during which he held up a flower and gazed at it. After a while, one of those present, a monk called Mahakasyapa, began to smile. He is said to have been the only one who had understood the sermon. According to legend, that smile (that is to say, realization) was handed down by twentyeight successive masters and much later became the origin of Zen."

"Seeing beauty in a flower could awaken humans, however briefly, to the beauty that is an essential part of their own innermost being, their true nature. The first recognition of beauty was one of the most significant events in the evolution of human consciousness. The feelings of joy and love are intrinsically connected to that recognition. Without our fully realizing it, flowers would become for us an expression in form of that which is most high, most sacred, and ultimately formless within ourselves. Flowers... would become like messengers from another realm, like a bridge between the world of physical forms and the formless. They not only had a scent that was delicate and pleasing to humans, but also brought a fragrance from the realm of spirit. Using the word “enlightenment” in a wider sense than the conventionally accepted one, we could look upon flowers as the enlightenment of plants... they are, of course, temporary manifestations of the underlying one Life, one Consciousness. Their special significance and the reason why humans feel such fascination for and affinity with them can be attributed to their ethereal quality."

"Along the river's summer walk, The withered tufts of asters nod; And trembles on its arid stalk The hoar plume of the golden-rod. And on a ground of sombre fir, And azure-studded juniper, The silver birch its buds of purple shows, And scarlet berries tell where bloomed the sweet wild-rose!"

"But when they had unloosed the linen band, Which swathed the Egyptian's body, lo! was found, Closed in the wasted hollow of her hand, A little seed, which, sown in English ground, Did wondrous snow of starry blossoms bear, And spread rich odours through our springtide air."

"The very flowers are sacred to the poor."

"To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often he too deep for tears."

"And 'tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes."

"The flower of sweetest smell is shy and lowly."

"Hope smiled when your nativity was cast, Children of Summer!"

"The mysteries that cups of flowers infold And'all the gorgeous sights which fairies do behold."

"There bloomed the strawberry of the wilderness; The trembling eyebright showed her sapphire blue, The thyme her purple, like the blush of Even; And if the breath of some to no caress Invited, forth they peeped so fair to view, All kinds alike seemed favourites of Heaven."

"Pansies, lilies, kingcups, daisies, Let them live upon their praises."

"Within the woods, Whose young and half transparent leaves scarce cast A shade, gray circles of anemones Danced on their stalks."

"From the soft wing of vernal breezes shed, Anemones, auritulas, enriched With shining meal o'er all their velvet leaves."

"Thy subtle charm is strangely given, My fancy will not let thee be, Then poise not thus 'twixt earth and heaven, O white anemone!"

"Anemone, so well Named of the wind, to which thou art all free."

"Or, bide thou where the poppy blows With windflowers frail and fair."

"The little windflower, whose just opened eye Is blue as the spring heaven it gazes at."

"The starry, fragile windflower, Poised above in airy grace, Virgin white, suffused with blushes, Shyly droops her lovely face."

"Thou lookest up with meek, confiding eye Upon the clouded smile of April's face, Unharmed though Winter stands uncertain by, Eyeing with jealous glance each opening grace."

"Like to an almond tree ymounted hye On top of greene Selinis all alone, With blossoms brave bedecked daintily; Whose tender locks do tremble every one, At everie little breath, that under heaven is blowne."

"Almond blossom, sent to teach us That the spring days soon will reach us."

"Blossom of the almond trees, April's gift to April's bees."

"White as the blossoms which the almond tree, Above its bald and leafless branches bears."

"Nosegays! leave them for the waking, Throw them earthward where they grew Dim are such, beside the breaking Amaranths he looks unto. Folded eyes see brighter colors than the open ever do."

"Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed, And daffodillies fill their cups with tears, To strew the laureate hearse where Lycid lies."

"Immortal amaranth, a flower which once In Paradise, fast by the Tree of Life, Began to bloom, but soon for Man's offence, To heav'n remov'd, where first it grew, there grows, And flow'rs aloft shading the fount of life."

"Amaranths such as crown the maids That wander through Zamara's shades."

"I care not for these ladies, That must be wooed and prayed; Give me kind Amaryllis, The wanton country maid. Nature art disdaineth; Her beauty is her own."

"Alas! what boots it with incessant care To tend the homely slighted shepherd's trade, And strictly meditate the thankless Muse? Were it not better done as others use, To sport with Amaryllis in the shade, Or with the tangles of Neaera's hair?"

"Where, here and there, on sandy beaches A milky-bell'd amaryllis blew."

"Underneath an apple-tree Sat a maiden and her lover; And the thoughts within her he Yearned, in silence, to discover. Round them danced the sunbeams bright, Green the grass-lawn stretched before them While the apple blossoms white Hung in rich profusion o'er them."

"The apple blossoms' shower of pearl, Though blent with rosier hue, As beautiful as woman's blush, As evanescent too."

"All day in the green, sunny orchard, When May was a marvel of bloom, I followed the busy bee-lovers Down paths that were sweet with perfume."

"Darlings of the forest! Blossoming alone When Earth's grief is sorest For her jewels gone— Ere the last snow-drift melts your tender buds have blown."

"Pure and perfect, sweet arbutus Twines her rosy-tinted wreath."

"The shy little Mayflower weaves her nest, But the south wind sighs o'er the fragrant loam, And betrays the path to her woodland home."

"The ash her purple drops forgivingly And sadly, breaking not the general hush; The maple swamps glow like a sunset sea, Each leaf a ripple with its separate flush; All round the wood's edge creeps the skirting blaze, Of bushes low, as when, on cloudy days, Ere the rain falls, the cautious farmer burns his brush."

"With her ankles sunken in asphodel She wept for the roses of earth which fell."

"By the streams that ever flow, By the fragrant winds that blow O'er the Elysian flow'rs; By those happy souls who dwell In yellow mead of asphodel."

"Chide me not, laborious band! For the idle flowers I brought; Every aster in my hand Goes home loaded with a thought."

"The Autumn wood the aster knows, The empty nest, the wind that grieves, The sunlight breaking thro' the shade, The squirrel chattering overhead, The timid rabbits lighter tread Among the rustling leaves."

"The aster greets us as we pass With her faint smile."

"And in the woods a fragrance rare Of wild azaleas fills the air, And richly tangled overhead We see their blossoms sweet and red."

"The fair azalea bows Beneath its snowy crest."

"Hang-head Bluebell, Bending like Moses' sister over Moses, Full of a secret that thou dar'st not tell!"

"Oh! roses and lilies are fair to see; But the wild bluebell is the flower for me."

"Whence is yonder flower so strangely bright? Would the sunset's last reflected shine Flame so red from that dead flush of light? Dark with passion is its lifted line, Hot, alive, amid the falling night."

"While cassias blossom in the zone of calms."

"For though the camomile, the more it is trodden on the faster it grows."

"Eyes of some men travel far For the finding of a star; Up and down the heavens they go, Men that keep a mighty rout! I'm as great as they, I trow, Since the day I found thee out, Little Flower!—I'll make a stir, Like a sage astronomer."

"Long as there's a sun that sets, Primroses will have their glory; Long as there are violets, They will have a place in story: There's a flower that shall be mine, 'Tis the little Celandine."

"Pleasures newly found are sweet When they lie about our feet: February last, my heart First at sight of thee was glad; All unheard of as thou art, Thou must needs, I think have had, Celandine! and long ago, Praise of which I nothing know."

"The maid of India, blessed again to hold In her full lap the Champac's leaves of gold."

"Fair gift of Friendship! and her ever bright And faultless image! welcome now them art, In thy pure loveliness—thy robes of white, Speaking a moral to the feeling heart; Unscattered by heats—by wintry blasts unmoved— Thy strength thus tested—and thy charms improved."

"Chrysanthemums from gilded argosy Unload their gaudy scentless merchandise."

"Flocks thick-nibbling through the clovered vale."

"Where the wind-rows are spread for the butterfly's bed, And the clover-bloom falleth around."

"Crimson clover I discover By the garden gate, And the bees about her hover, But the robins wait. Sing, robins, sing, Sing a roundelay,— 'Tis the latest flower of Spring Coming with the May!"

"The clover blossoms kiss her feet, She is so sweet, she is so sweet. While I, who may not kiss her hand, Bless all the wild flowers in the land."

"What airs outblown from ferny dells And clover-bloom and sweet brier smells."

"Or columbines, in purple dressed Nod o'er the ground-bird's hidden nest."

"Skirting the rocks at the forest edge With a running flame from ledge to ledge, Or swaying deeper in shadowy glooms, A smoldering fire in her dusky blooms; Bronzed and molded by wind and sun, Maddening, gladdening every one With a gypsy beauty full and fine,— A health to the crimson columbine!"

"O columbine, open your folded wrapper, Where two twin turtle-doves dwell! O cuckoopint, toll me the purple clapper That hangs in your clear green bell!"

"There's fennel for you, and columbines: there's rue for you."

"I am that flower,—That mint.—That columbine."

"Look at this vigorous plant that lifts its head from the meadow, See how its leaves are turned to the north, as true as the magnet; This is the compass-flower, that the finger of God has planted Here in the houseless wild, to direct the traveller's journey. Over the sea-like, pathless, limitless waste of the desert, Such in the soul of man is faith."

"Smiled like yon knot of cowslips on a cliff."

"Thus I set my printless feet O'er the cowslip's velvet head, That bends not as I tread."

"The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth The freckled cowslip, burnet and green clover."

"The cowslips tall her pensioners be; In their gold coats spots you see: Those be rubies, fairy favours; In those freckles live their savours."

"Yet soon fair Spring shall give another scene. And yellow cowslips gild the level green."

"And wild-scatter'd cowslips bedeck the green dale."

"Ilk cowslip cup shall kep a tear."

"The nesh yonge coweslip bendethe wyth the dewe."

"The cowslip is a country wench."

"The first wan cowslip, wet With tears of the first morn."

"Through tall cowslips nodding near you, Just to touch you as you pass."

"And ye talk together still, In the language wherewith Spring Letters cowslips on the hill."

"And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint sweet cuckoo-flowers."

"Welcome, wild harbinger of spring! To this small nook of earth; Feeling and fancy fondly cling Round thoughts which owe their birth To thee, and to the humble spot Where chance has fixed thy lowly lot."

"Hail to the King of Bethlehem, Who weareth in his diadem The yellow crocus for the gem Of his authority!"

"You cannot forget if you would those golden kisses all over the cheeks of the meadow, queerly called dandelions."

"Upon a showery night and still, Without a sound of warning, A trooper band surprised the hill, And held it in the morning. We were not waked by bugle notes, No cheer our dreams invaded, And yet at dawn, their yellow coats On the green slopes paraded."

"Dear common flower, that grow'st beside the way, Fringing the dusty road with harmless gold, First pledge of blithesome May, Which children pluck, and, full of pride, uphold, High-hearted buccaneers, o'erjoyed that they An Eldorado in the grass have found, Which not the rich earth's ample round May match in wealth, thou art more dear to me Than all the prouder summer-blooms may be."

"Young Dandelion On a hedge-side, Said young Dandelion, Who'll be my bride? Said young Dandelion With a sweet air, I have my eye on Miss Daisy fair."

"Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven, Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels."

"The blue and bright-eyed floweret of the brook, Hope's gentle gem, the sweet Forget-me-not."

"The sweet forget-me-nots, That grow for happy lovers."

"And the blue gentian-flower, that, in the breeze, Nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last."

"Thou blossom! bright with autumn dew, And colour'd with the heaven's own blue, That openest when the quiet light Succeeds the keen and frosty night."

"Blue thou art, intensely blue; Flower, whence came thy dazzling hue?"

"Beside the brook and on the umbered meadow, Where yellow fern-tufts fleck the faded ground, With folded lids beneath their palmy shadow The gentian nods in dewy slumbers bound."

"Mountain gorses, do ye teach us * * * * * That the wisest word man reaches Is the humblest he can speak?"

"Mountain gorses, ever-golden. Cankered not the whole year long! Do ye teach us to be strong, Howsoever pricked and holden Like your thorny blooms and so Trodden on by rain and snow, Up the hillside of this life, as bleak as where ye grow?"

"Love you not, then, to list and hear The crackling of the gorse-flower near, Pouring an orange-scented tide Of fragrance o'er the desert wide?"

"Hope is like a harebell, trembling from its birth, Love is like a rose, the joy of all the earth, Faith is like a lily, lifted high and white, Love is like a lovely rose, the world's delight. Harebells and sweet lilies show a thornless growth, But the rose with all its thorns excels them both."

"With fairest flowers, Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, I'll sweeten thy sad grave; thou shall not lack The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose, nor The azur'd harebell, like thy veins."

"I love the fair lilies and roses so gay, They are rich in their pride and their splendor; But still more do I love to wander away To the meadow so sweet, Where down at my feet, The harebell blooms modest and tender."

"With drooping bells of clearest blue Thou didst attract my childish view, Almost resembling The azure butterflies that flew Where on the heath thy blossoms grew So lightly trembling."

"Simplest of blossoms! To mine eye Thou bring'st the summer's painted sky; The May-thorn greening in the nook; The minnows sporting in the brook; The bleat of flocks; the breath of flowers; The song of birds amid the bowers; The crystal of the azure seas; The music of the southern breeze; And, over all, the blessed sun, Telling of halcyon days begun."

"High in the clefts of the rock 'mid the cedars Hangeth the harebell the waterfall nigh; Blue are its petals, deep-blue tinged with purple, Mystical tintings that mirror the sky."

"I drink deep draughts of its nectar."

"O sweetest of all the flowrets That bloom where angels tread! But never such marvelous odor, From heliotrope was shed."

"All the woodland path is broken By warm tints along the way, And the low and sunny slope Is alive with sudden hope When there comes the silent token Of an April day,— Blue hepatica!"

"It is the Hyacinth, whose sweet bells stooping, Bend with the odours heavy in their cells; Amid the shadows of their fragrant drooping, Memory, that is itself a shadow, dwells."

"The bees came booming as if they had never gone, As if hyacinths had never gone. We say This changes and that changes. Thus the constant Violets, doves, girls, bees and hyacinths Are inconstant objects of inconstant cause In a universe of inconstancy. This means Night-blue is an inconstant thing. The seraph Is satyr in Saturn, according to his thoughts."

"The hyacinth for constancy wi' its unchanging blue."

"Art thou a hyacinth blossom The shepherds upon the hills Have trodden into the ground? Shall I not lift thee?"

"Come, evening gale! the crimsonne rose Is drooping for thy sighe of dewe; The hyacinthe wooes thy kisse to close In slumberre sweete its eye of blue."

"By field and by fell, and by mountain gorge, Shone Hyacinths blue and clear."

"Here hyacinths of heavenly blue Shook their rich tresses to the morn."

"If of thy mortal goods thou art bereft, And from thy slender store two loaves alone to thee are left, Sell one, and with the dole Buy hyacinths to feed thy soul."

"And the hyacinth purple, and white, and blue, Which flung from its bells a sweet peal anew Of music so delicate, soft, and intense, It was felt like an odour within the sense."

"Pale, mournful flower, that hidest in shade Mid dewy damps and murky glade, With moss and mould, Why dost thou hang thy ghastly head, So sad and cold?"

"Where the long, slant rays are beaming, Where the shadows cool lie dreaming, Pale the Indian pipes are gleaming— Laugh, O murmuring Spring!"

"I hear, I hear The twang of harps, the leap Of fairy feet and know the revel's ripe, While like a coral stripe The lizard cool doth creep, Monster, but monarch there, up the pale Indian Pipe."

"Death in the wood,— In the death-pale lips apart; Death in a whiteness that curdled the blood, Now black to the very heart: The wonder by her was formed Who stands supreme in power; To show that life by the spirit comes She gave us a soulless flower!"

"The yellow flags * * * would stand Up to their chins in water."

"Born in the purple, born to joy and pleasance, Thou dost not toil nor spin, But makest glad and radiant with thy presence The meadow and the lin."

"O flower-de-luce, bloom on, and let the river Linger to kiss thy feet! O flower of song, bloom on, and make forever The world more fair and sweet."

"Lilies of all kinds, The flower-de-luce being one!"

"And nearer to the river's trembling edge There grew broad flag-flowers, purple, prankt with white; And starry river buds among the sedge; And floating water-lilies, broad and bright."

"What, is the jay more precious than the lark, Because his feathers are more beautiful?"

"And at my silent window-sill The jessamine peeps in."

"Jasmine is sweet, and has many loves."

"Jas in the Arab language is despair, And Min the darkest meaning of a lie. Thus cried the Jessamine among the flowers, How justly doth a lie Draw on its head despair! Among the fragrant spirits of the bowers The boldest and the strongest still was I. Although so fair, Therefore from Heaven A stronger perfume unto me was given Than any blossom of the summer hours."

"Among the flowers no perfume is like mine; That which is best in me comes from within. So those in this world who would rise and shine Should seek internal excellence to win. And though 'tis true that falsehood and despair Meet in my name, yet bear it still in mind That where they meet they perish. All is fair When they are gone and nought remains behind."

"And the jasmine flower in her fair young breast, (O the faint, sweet smell of that jasmine flower!) And the one bird singing alone to his nest. And the one star over the tower."

"It smelt so faint, and it smelt so sweet, It made me creep and it made me cold. Like the scent that steals from the crumbling sheet Where a mummy is half unroll'd."

"Out in the lonely woods the jasmine burns Its fragrant lamps, and turns Into a royal court with green festoons The banks of dark lagoons."

"…The thornless lilacs summon up no dread, Demand no witness. Flower, branch, and leaf Are only what they are. They have no words For us to ponder, though we sometimes feign To speak for them, as augury of birds Construes an omen of impending pain."

"The lilac spread Odorous essence."

"Go down to Kew in lilac-time, in lilac-time, in lilac-time; Go down to Kew in lilac-time (it isn't far from London). And you shall wander hand in hand with love in summer's wonderland; Go down to Kew in lilac-time (it isn't far from London)."

"I am thinking of the lilac-trees, That shook their purple plumes, And when the sash was open, Shed fragrance through the room."

"The purple clusters load the lilac-bushes."

"When lilacs last in the door-yard bloom'd, And the great star early droop'd in the western sky in the night, I mourn'd—and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring."

"With every leaf a miracle … and from this bush in the door-yard, With delicate-colour'd blossoms, and heart-shaped leaves of rich green A sprig, with its flower, I break."

"Love lies bleeding in the bed whereover Roses lean with smiling mouths or pleading: Earth lies laughing where the sun's dart clove her: Love lies bleeding."

"This flower that first appeared as summer's guest Preserves her beauty 'mid autumnal leaves And to her mournful habits fondly cleaves."

"Fragrant o'er all the western groves The tall magnolia towers unshaded."

"Majestic flower! How purely beautiful Thou art, as rising from thy bower of green, Those dark and glossy leaves so thick and full, Thou standest like a high-born forest queen Among thy maidens clustering round so fair;— I love to watch thy sculptured form unfolding, And look into thy depths, to image there A fairy cavern; and while thus beholding, And while the breeze floats o'er thee, matchless flower, I breathe the perfume, delicate and strong, That comes like incense from thy petal-bower, My fancy roams those southern woods along, Beneath that glorious tree, where deep among The unsunned leaves thy large white flower-cups hung!"

"I wake to "magnolias sweet and fresh", Lines of poetry on my breath, You were here but you have stolen away. My inspiration is an evening star, So come to me wherever you are, I will wait for you tonight alone in the dark…"

"Lush orbs of rose and cream Unfurl like lotus blooms, Luxuriant, and stream Soft, sensuous perfumes."

"And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes."

"Here's flowers for you: Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram: The marigold, that goes to bed wi' the sun, And with him rises weeping."

"The marigold, whose courtier's face Echoes the sun, and doth unlace Her at his rise, at his full stop Packs and shuts up her gaudy shop."

"The marigold abroad her leaves doth spread, Because the sun's and her power is the same."

"No marigolds yet closed are, No shadows great appeare."

"Open afresh your round of starry folds, Ye ardent marigolds! Dry up the moisture from your golden lips."

"The sun-observing marigold."

"Nor shall the marigold unmentioned die, Which Acis once found out in Sicily; She Phoebus loves, and from him draws his hue, And ever keeps his golden beams in view."

"When with a serious musing I behold The graceful and obsequious marigold, How duly every morning she displays Her open breast, when Titan spreads his rays."

"The seal and guerdon of wealth untold We clasp in the wild marsh marigold."

"Fair is the marigold, for pottage meet."

"A little marsh-plant, yellow green, And prick'd at lip with tender red, Tread close, and either way you tread, Some faint black water jets between Lest you should bruise the curious head."

"With careless joy we thread the woodland ways And reach her broad domain. Thro' sense of strength and beauty, free as air. We feel our savage kin, And thus alone with conscious meaning wear The Indian's moccasin!"

"Not to the sunny hours That waken other flowers, Dost thou fling forth the odour of thy sighing But in the time of gloom, Is yielded thy perfume, Like Love, that lives when all beside is dying."

"Wondrous interlacement! Holding fast to threads by green and silky rings, With the dawn it spreads its white and purple wings; Generous in its bloom, and sheltering while it clings, Sturdy morning-glory."

"The morning-glory's blossoming Will soon be coming round We see their rows of heart-shaped leaves Upspringing from the ground."

"Nor myrtle—which means chiefly love: and love Is something awful which one dare not touch So early o' mornings."

"The myrtle (ensign of supreme command, Consigned by Venus to Melissa's hand) Not less capricious than a reigning fair, Oft favors, oft rejects a lover's prayer; In myrtle shades oft sings the happy swain, In myrtle shades despairing ghosts complain."

"Dark-green and gemm'd with flowers of snow, With close uncrowded branches spread Not proudly high, nor meanly low, A graceful myrtle rear'd its head."

"While the myrtle, now idly entwin'd with his crown, Like the wreath of Harmodius, shall cover his sword."

"In the marsh pink orchid's faces, With their coy and dainty graces, Lure us to their hiding places , Laugh, O murmuring Spring!"

"Around the pillars of the palm-tree bower The orchids cling, in rose and purple spheres; Shield-broad the lily floats; the aloe flower Foredates its hundred years."

"Art thou a type of beauty, or of power, Of sweet enjoyment, or disastrous sin? For each thy name denoteth, Passion flower! O no! thy pure corolla's depth within We trace a holier symbol; yea, a sign 'Twixt God and man; a record of that hour When the expiatory act divine Cancelled that curse which was our mortal dower. It is the Cross!"

"Her heart was a passion-flower, bearing within it the crown of thorns and the cross of Christ."

"You take a pink, You dig about its roots and water it, And so improve it to a garden-pink, But will not change it to a heliotrope."

"And I will pu' the pink, the emblem o' my dear, For she's the pink o' womankind, and blooms without a peer."

"The beauteous pink I would not slight. Pride of the gardener's leisure."

"Ring-ting! I wish I were a primrose, A bright yellow primrose blowing in the spring! The stooping boughs above me, The wandering bee to love me, The fern and moss to creep across, And the elm-tree for our king!"

"The primrose banks how fair!"

""I could have brought you some primroses, but I do not like to mix violets with anything." "They say primroses make a capital salad," said Lord St. Jerome."

"Her modest looks the cottage might adorn, Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn."

"Why doe ye weep, sweet babes? Can tears Speak griefe in you, Who were but borne Just as the modest morne Teemed her refreshing dew?"

"A tuft of evening primroses, O'er which the mind may hover till it dozes; O'er which it well might take a pleasant sleep, But that 'tis ever startled by the leap Of buds into ripe flowers."

"Bountiful Primroses, With outspread heart that needs the rough leaves' care."

"Mild offspring of a dark and sullen sire! Whose modest form, so delicately fine, Was nursed in whirling storms, And cradled in the winds. Thee when young spring first question'd winter's sway, And dared the sturdy blusterer to the fight, Thee on his bank he threw To mark his victory."

"A primrose by a river's brim, A yellow primrose was to him, And it was nothing more."

"Primroses, the Spring may love them; Summer knows but little of them."

"The Primrose for a veil had spread The largest of her upright leaves; And thus for purposes benign, A simple flower deceives."

"And the saffron flower Clear as a flame of sacrifice breaks out."

"From the white-blossomed sloe, my dear Chloe requested, A sprig her fair breast to adorn. No! by Heav'n, I exclaim'd, may I perish, If ever I plant in that bosom a thorn."

"Thou beautiful new comer, With white and maiden brow ; Thou fairy gift from summer, Why art thou blooming now ? This dim and sheltered alley Is dark with winter green ; Not such as in the valley At sweet spring-time is seen."

"At the head of Flora's dance; Simple Snow-drop, then in thee All thy sister-train I see; Every brilliant bud that blows, From the blue-bell to the rose; All the beauties that appear, On the bosom of the Year, All that wreathe the locks of Spring, Summer's ardent breath perfume, Or on the lap of Autumn bloom, All to thee their tribute bring."

"The morning star of flowers."

"Nor will I then thy modest grace forget, Chaste Snow-drop, venturous harbinger of Spring, And pensive monitor of fleeting years!"

"Lone Flower, hemmed in with snows and white as they But hardier far, once more I see thee bend Thy forehead, as if fearful to offend, Like an unbidden guest. Though day by day, Storms, sallying from the mountain tops, waylay The rising sun, and on the plains descend; Yet art thou welcome, welcome as a friend Whose zeal outruns his promise!"

"The pea is but a wanton witch In too much haste to wed, And clasps her rings on every hand."

"Here are sweet peas, on tiptoe for a flight; With wings of gentle flush o'er delicate white, And taper fingers catching at all things, To bind them all about with tiny rings."

"Up climb’d the sweet pea, The butterfly of flowers:—I love it not, Though every hue—and it has many tints— Are dyed as if the sunset evening clouds Had fallen to the earth in sudden rain, And left their colours : purple, delicate pink, And snowy white, are on thy wing-like leaves; But thou art all too forward in thy bloom ; Thy blossoms are the sun’s, and cling to all That can support them into open day: And then they die, leaving no root behind, The hope and promise of another spring; And no perfume, whose lingering gratitude Remains round what upheld its summer’s life."

"Up wi' the flowers o' Scotland, The emblems o' the free, Their guardians for a thousand years, Their guardians still we'll be. A foe had better brave the de'il Within his reeky cell, Than our thistle's purple bonnet, Or bonny heather bell."

"When on the breath of Autumn's breeze, From pastures dry and brown, Goes floating, like an idle thought, The fair, white thistle-down; O, then what joy to walk at will, Upon the golden harvest-hill!"

"The tuberose, with her silvery light, That in the gardens of Malay Is call'd the Mistress of the Night, So like a bride, scented and bright; She comes out when the sun's away."

"Violets! — deep-blue violets! April's loveliest coronets! There are no flowers grow in the vale, Kiss'd by the dew, wooed by the gale, — None by the dew of the twilight wet, So sweet as the deep-blue violet!"

"Though many a flower may win my praise, The violet has my love; I did not pass my childish days In garden or in grove: My garden was the window-seat, Upon whose edge was set A little vase—the fair, the sweet— It was the violet."

"Summer night, blossoming in the pond, water-lilies and stars"

"Those virgin lilies, all the night Bathing their beauties in the lake, That they may rise more fresh and bright, When their beloved sun's awake."

"The water-lily starts and slides Upon the level in little puffs of wind, Tho' anchor'd to the bottom."

"Now folds the lily all her sweetness up, And slips into the bosom of the lake; So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip Into my bosom, and be lost in me."

"Rapaciously we gathered flowery spoils From land and water; lilies of each hue, , Golden and white, that float upon the waves, And court the wind."

"What loved little islands, twice seen in their lakes : Can the wild water-lily restore."

"The slender water-lily Peeps dreamingly out of the lake; The moon, oppress'd with love's sorrow, Looks tenderly down for her sake."

"Broad water-lilies lay tremulously. And starry river-buds glimmered by, And around them the soft stream did glide and dance With a motion of sweet sound and radiance."

"Swan flocks of lilies shoreward lying, In sweetness, not in music, dying."

"Kukat ovat hyviä kuuntelijoita. (Pekka Streng, Kesämaa)"