At my age flowers scare me.
This is farewell. I shall wait beneath the moss Until the flowers are fragrant In this island country of Japan.Hideki Tojo
And yonder by Nankin, behold! The Tower of Porcelain, strange and old, Uplifting to the astonished skies Its ninefold painted balconies, With balustrades of twining leaves, And roofs of tile, beneath whose eaves Hang porcelain bells that all the time Ring with a soft, melodious chime; While the whole fabric is ablaze With varied tints, all fused in one Great mass of color, like a maze Of flowers illumined by the sun.Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I think of the poetry of René Char and all he must have seen and suffered that has brought him to speak only of sedgy rivers, of daffodils and tulips whose roots they water, even to the free-flowing river that laves the rootlets of those sweet-scented flowers that people the milky waywilliam carlos williams
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep, Drows’d with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers.john keats
Let the wenches dawdle in such dress As they are used to wear, and let the boys Bring flowers in last month's newspapers. Let be be finale of seem. The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.wallace stevens
Sweet bird, that sing'st away the early hours, Of winter's past or coming void of care, Well pleaséd with delights which present are, Fair seasons, budding sprays, sweet-smelling flowers.
"Thou wert not, Solomon! in all thy glory Array'd," the lilies cry, "in robes like ours; How vain your grandeur! Ah, how transitory Are human flowers!"horace smith
O fickle Fortune, why this cruel sporting? Why thus torment us poor sons of day? Nae mair your smiles can cheer me, nae mair your frowns can fear me, For the flowers of the forest are a' wade away.Richard Cobden
Are not your kisses then as filthy, and more, As a worm sucking an envenomed sore? Doth not thy fearful hand in felling quake, As one which gathering flowers, still fears a snake? Is not your last act harsh, and violent, As when a plough a stony ground doth rent?john donne
The softest breeze to fairest flowers gives birth: Think not that Prudence dwells in dark abodes, She scans the future with the eye of gods.william wordsworth
The Bible is like a wide and beautiful landscape seen afar off, dim and confused; but a good telescope will bring it near, and spread out all its rocks and trees and flowers and v__ulant fields and winding rivers at one's very feet. That telescope is the Spirit's teaching.thomas chalmers
Now let us gather into one bouquet, from the King's garden, these seven fragrant flowers: Jesus the Son of God; Jesus our sin-bearer; Jesus the giver of eternal life; Jesus the keeper of our undying souls; Jesus the hearer of our prayers; Jesus the chastener who can turn crosses into crowns; and Jesus the wonder-worker who changes us into eternal likeness unto Himself! These flowers will keep sweet till heaven dawns.theodore l. cuyler
Or say it is Pentecost: the hawthorn-tree,set with coagulate magnified flowers of may,blooms in a haze of light; old chalk-pits brimwith seminal verdue from the roots of time.Landscape is like revelation; it is bothsingular crystal and the remotest things.Cloud-shadows of seasons revisit the earth,odourless myrrh bourne by the wandering kings.geoffrey hill
Blue! Gentle cousin of the forest-green, Married to green in all the sweetest flowers— Forget-me-not,—the blue bell,—and, that queen Of secrecy, the violet: what strange powers Hast thou, as a mere shadow! But how great, When in an Eye thou art alive with fate!john keats
Blue! Gentle cousin of the forest-green, Married to green in all the sweetest flowers Forget-me-not, the blue bell, and, that queen Of secrecy, the violet: what strange powers Hast thou, as a mere shadow! But how great, When in an Eye thou art alive with fate!john keats
We may have years, we may have hours, but sooner of later, we push up flowers.
I'll love you till the bluebells forget to bloom; I'll love you till the clover has lost its perfume. I'll love you till the poets run out of rhyme, Until the twelfth of never and that's a long, long time.Paul Webster
Simplest of blossoms! To mine eye Thou bring'st the summer's painted sky; The May-thorn greening in the nook; The minnows sporting in the brook; The bleat of flocks; the breath of flowers; The song of birds amid the bowers; The crystal of the azure seas; The music of the southern breeze; And, over all, the blessed sun, Telling of halcyon days begun.