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.
You May Also Like / View all maxioms
Little things seem nothing, but they give peace, like those meadow flowers which individually seem odorless but all together perfume read more
Little things seem nothing, but they give peace, like those meadow flowers which individually seem odorless but all together perfume the air.
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.
The earth laughs in flowers.
The earth laughs in flowers.
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.
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?
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.
Flowers are Love's truest language; they betray,
Like the divining rods of Magi old,
Where precious wealth read more
Flowers are Love's truest language; they betray,
Like the divining rods of Magi old,
Where precious wealth lies buried, not of gold,
But love--strong love, that never can decay!
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.
Every flower is a soul blossoming in Nature.
Every flower is a soul blossoming in Nature.
