Rose, what is become of thy delicate hue?
And where is the violet's beautiful blue?
Does aught read more

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?

The windflower and the violet, they perished long ago,
And the brier-rose and the orchis died amid the summer read more

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

Art is the unceasing effort to compete with the beauty of flowers - and never succeeding.

Art is the unceasing effort to compete with the beauty of flowers - and never succeeding.

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

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

The berries of the brier rose
Have lost their rounded pride:
The bitter-sweet chrysanthemums
read more

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

A root is a flower that disdains fame.

A root is a flower that disdains fame.

Flowers grow out of dark moments.

Flowers grow out of dark moments.

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

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

The earth laughs in flowers.

The earth laughs in flowers.