Thick on the woodland floor
Gay company shall be,
Primrose and Hyacinth
And frail read more

Thick on the woodland floor
Gay company shall be,
Primrose and Hyacinth
And frail Anemone,
Perennial Strawberry-bloom,
Woodsorrel's pencilled veil,
Dishevel'd Willow-weed
And Orchis purple and pale.

A kiss without a hug is like a flower without the fragrance.

A kiss without a hug is like a flower without the fragrance.

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.

They know the time to go!
The fairy clocks strike their inaudible hour
In field and woodland, read more

They know the time to go!
The fairy clocks strike their inaudible hour
In field and woodland, and each punctual flower
Bows at the signal an obedient head
And hastens to bed.

If we plant a flower or a shrub and water it daily it will grow so tall that in time read more

If we plant a flower or a shrub and water it daily it will grow so tall that in time we shall need a spade and a hoe to uproot it. It is just so, I think, when we commit a fault, however small, each day, and do not cure ourselves of it.

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.

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.

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.

Ah, ah, Cytherea! Adonis is dead.
She wept tear after tear, with the blood which was shed,--
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Ah, ah, Cytherea! Adonis is dead.
She wept tear after tear, with the blood which was shed,--
And both turned into flowers for the earth's garden-close;
Her tears, to the wind-flower,--his blood, to the rose.