"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."

"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."

"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."

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

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

"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!"

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

"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!"

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

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

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