A flower, when offered in the bud, is no vain sacrifice.

A flower, when offered in the bud, is no vain sacrifice.

Flowers grow out of dark moments.

Flowers grow out of dark moments.

As for marigolds, poppies, hollyhocks, and valorous sunflowers,
we shall never have a garden without them, both for their read more

As for marigolds, poppies, hollyhocks, and valorous sunflowers,
we shall never have a garden without them, both for their own
sake, and for the sake of old-fashioned folks, who used to love
them.

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.

Sweet letters of the angel tongue,
I've loved ye long and well,
And never have failed in read more

Sweet letters of the angel tongue,
I've loved ye long and well,
And never have failed in your fragrance sweet
To find some secret spell,--
A charm that has bound me with witching power,
For mine is the old belief,
That midst your sweets and midst your bloom,
There's a soul in every leaf!

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.

Loveliest of lovely things are they On earth, that soonest pass away. The rose that lives its little hour Is read more

Loveliest of lovely things are they On earth, that soonest pass away. The rose that lives its little hour Is prized beyond the sculptured flower.

Ye field flowers! the gardens eclipse you 'tis true:
Yet wildings of nature, I dote upon you,
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Ye field flowers! the gardens eclipse you 'tis true:
Yet wildings of nature, I dote upon you,
For ye waft me to summers of old,
When the earth teem'd around me with fairy delight,
And when daisies and buttercups gladden'd my sight,
Like treasures of silver and gold.

Big doesn't necessarily mean better. Sunflowers aren't better than violets.

Big doesn't necessarily mean better. Sunflowers aren't better than violets.