Now blooms the lily by the bank,
The primrose down the brae;
The hawthorn's budding in the read more

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

We are Lilies fair,
The flower of virgin light;
Nature held us forth, and said,
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We are Lilies fair,
The flower of virgin light;
Nature held us forth, and said,
"Lo! my thoughts of white."
- Leigh Hunt (James Henry Leigh Hunt),

Where fall the tears of love the rose appears,
And where the ground is bright with friendship's tears,
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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.

I have loved flowers that fade,
Within those magic tents
Rich hues have marriage made
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I have loved flowers that fade,
Within those magic tents
Rich hues have marriage made
With sweet unmemoried scents.

I am following Nature without being able to grasp her . . . . I perhaps owe having become a read more

I am following Nature without being able to grasp her . . . . I perhaps owe having become a painter to flowers.

Mama was my greatest teacher, a teacher of compassion, love and fearlessness. If love is sweet as a flower, then read more

Mama was my greatest teacher, a teacher of compassion, love and fearlessness. If love is sweet as a flower, then my mother is that sweet flower of love.

Flowers are restful to look at. They have neither emotions nor conflicts.

Flowers are restful to look at. They have neither emotions nor conflicts.

For her, the lilies hang their heads and die.

For her, the lilies hang their heads and die.

Mourn, little harebells, o'er the lea;
Ye stately foxgloves fair to see!
Ye woodbines, hanging bonnilie
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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.