"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."
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Original Language: English
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Sources
Letitia Elizabeth Landon, Heath's Book of Beauty, 1833 (1832), 'The Last of St. Aubyns'
https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Flowers
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Flowers
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