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

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

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!

Ye field flowers! the gardens eclipse you 'tis true:
Yet wildings of nature, I dote upon you,
read more

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.

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

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

Flowers always make people better, happier and more helpful; they are sunshine, food and medicine to the soul.

Flowers always make people better, happier and more helpful; they are sunshine, food and medicine to the soul.

Flowers have an expression of countenance as much as men and
animals. Some seem to smile; some have a read more

Flowers have an expression of countenance as much as men and
animals. Some seem to smile; some have a sad expression; some
are pensive and diffident; others again are plain, honest and
upright, like the broad-faced sunflower and the hollyhock.

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 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.

A wedding is just like a funeral except that you get to smell your own flowers.

A wedding is just like a funeral except that you get to smell your own flowers.