A root is a flower that disdains fame.

A root is a flower that disdains fame.

Brazen helm of daffodillies,
With a glitter toward the light.
Purple violets for the mouth,
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Brazen helm of daffodillies,
With a glitter toward the light.
Purple violets for the mouth,
Breathing perfumes west and south;
And a sword of flashing lilies,
Holden ready for the fight.

The flower-girl's prayer to buy roses and pinks,
Held out in the smoke, like stars by day.

The flower-girl's prayer to buy roses and pinks,
Held out in the smoke, like stars by day.

I know not which I love the most,
Nor which the comeliest shows,
The timid, bashful violet
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I know not which I love the most,
Nor which the comeliest shows,
The timid, bashful violet
Or the royal-hearted rose:
The pansy in purple dress,
The pink with cheek of red,
Or the faint, fair heliotrope, who hangs,
Like a bashful maid her head.

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.

Flowers are words
Which even a babe may understand.

Flowers are words
Which even a babe may understand.

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.

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.

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.