"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."

"Instead of the thorn shall come up the fir tree, and instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle tree: and it shall be to the LORD for a name, for an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off."

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

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

"For Adoration myrtles stay To keep the garden from dismay, And bless the sight from dearth."

"In that dusk land of mystic dream Where dark Osiris sprung, It bloomed beside his sacred stream While yet the world was young; And every secret Nature told, Of golden wisdom's power, Is nestled still in every fold, Within the Lotos flower."

"A spring there is, whose silver waters show Clear as a glass the shining sands below: A flowering lotos spreads its arms above, Shades all the banks, and seems itself a grove."

"They wove the lotus band to deck And fan with pensile wreath their neck."

"The lotos bowed above the tide and dreamed."

"Lotos, the name; divine, nectareous juice!"

"Stone lotus cups, with petals dipped in sand."

"The Lotos blooms below the barren peak: The Lotos blooms by every winding creek: All day the wind breathes low with mellower tone: Thro' every hollow cave and alley lone, Round and round the spicy downs the yellow Lotos-dust is blown."

"Be like a lotus. Let the beauty of your heart speak. Be grateful to the mud, water, air and the light."

"Oh! what are the brightest that e'er have blown To the lote-tree, springing by Alla's throne, Whose flowers have a soul in every leaf."

"Eyes pure and broad like the blue lotus; mind pure, steeped in meditations; for pure deeds long accumulated, boundless in fame, your quietude guides the assembly-thus we bow our heads."

"White bud! that in meek beauty dost lean Thy cloistered cheek as pale as moonlight snow, Thou seem'st, beneath thy huge, high leaf of green, An Eremite beneath his mountain's brow."

"The lily of the vale, of flowers the queen, Puts on the robe she neither sew'd nor spun."

"And the Naiad-like lily of the vale, Whom youth makes so fair and passion so pale, That the light of its tremulous bells is seen, Through their pavilions of tender green."

"My philosophy is to use the stones hurled at me to make a bridge for myself; I believe in proving my critics wrong through my work. I keep saying, the more muck you throw at me, the brighter will the BJP lotus bloom. That is the nature of the lotus, it rises out of keechhad (slush) to create exquisite beauty."

"And in his left he held a basket full Of all sweet herbs that searching eye could cull Wild thyme, and valley-lilies whiter still Than Leda's love, and cresses from the rill."

"Yet in that bulb, those sapless scales, The lily wraps her silver vest, Till vernal suns and vernal gales Shall kiss once more her fragrant breast."

"Where scattered wild the Lily of the Vale Its balmy essence breathes."

"But who will watch my lilies, When their blossoms open white? By day the sun shall be sentry, And the moon and the stars by night!"

"Thou wert not, Solomon! in all thy glory Array'd," the lilies cry, "in robes like ours; How vain your grandeur! Ah, how transitory Are human flowers!"

"But lilies, stolen from grassy mold, No more curlèd state unfold, Translated to a vase of gold; In burning throne though they keep still Serenities unthawed and chill."

"And leaves of that shy plant, (Her flowers were shed) the lily of the vale, That loves the ground, and from the sun withholds Her pensive beauty; from the breeze her sweets."

"Sikander burnt all books the same wise as fire burns hay. All the scintillating works faced destruction in the same manner that lotus flowers face with the onset of frosty winter."

"Is not this lily pure? What fuller can procure A white so perfect, spotless clear As in this flower doth appear?"

"Gracious as sunshine, sweet as dew Shut in a lily's golden core."

"How bravely thou becomest thy bed, fresh lily."

""Look to the lilies how they grow!" 'Twas thus the Saviour said, that we, Even in the simplest flowers that blow, God's ever-watchful care might see."

"Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin."

"For her, the lilies hang their heads and die."

"Like the lily, That once was mistress of the field and flourish'd, I'll hang my head and perish."

"The lily is all in white, like a saint, And so is no mate for me."

"Yet, the great ocean hath no tone of power Mightier to reach the soul, in thought's hushed hour, Than yours, ye Lilies! chosen thus and graced!"

"We are Lilies fair, The flower of virgin light; Nature held us forth, and said, "Lo! my thoughts of white.""

"I wish I were the lily's leaf To fade upon that bosom warm, Content to wither, pale and brief, The trophy of thy paler form."

"Very whitely still The lilies of our lives may reassure Their blossoms from their roots, accessible Alone to heavenly dews that drop not fewer; Growing straight out of man's reach, on the hill. God only, who made us rich, can make us poor."

"And the stately lilies stand Fair in the silvery light, Like saintly vestals, pale in prayer; Their pure breath sanctifies the air, As its fragrance fills the night."

"O lovely lily clean, O lily springing green, O lily bursting white, Dear lily of delight, Spring in my heart agen That I may flower to men."

"And the wand-like lily which lifted up, As a Mænad, its moonlight-coloured cup, Till the fiery star, which is its eye, Gazed through clear dew on the tender sky."

"Where drooping lotos-flowers, distilling balm, Dream by the drowsy streamlets sleep hath crown'd, While Care forgets to sigh, and Peace hath balsamed Pain."

"Manibus date lilia plenis."

"I like not lady-slippers, Nor yet the sweet-pea blossoms, Nor yet the flaky roses, Red or white as snow; I like the chaliced lilies, The heavy Eastern lilies, The gorgeous tiger-lilies, That in our garden grow."

"And lilies are still lilies, pulled By smutty hands, though spotted from their white."

"Purple lilies Dante blew To a larger bubble with his prophet breath."

"The lotus flower is troubled At the sun's resplendent light; With sunken head and sadly She dreamily waits for the night."

"And lilies white, prepared to touch The whitest thought, nor soil it much, Of dreamer turned to lover."

"Graceful, tossing plume of glowing gold, Waving lonely on the rocky ledge; Leaning seaward, lovely to behold, Clinging to the high cliff's ragged edge."