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ROBERT BRIDGES—Idle Flowers.
I have loved flowers that fade,
ROBERT BRIDGES— Shorter Poems. Bk. II. 13.
Mourn, little harebells, o'er the lea;
In scented bowers!
The first o' flow'rs. BURNS—Elegy on Capt. Matthew Henderson.
The primrose down the brae;
And milkwhite is the slae.
BURNS—Lament of Mary, Queen of Scots. The snowdrop and primrose our woodlands
adorn, And violets bathe in the wet o' the morn.
BURNS-My Nannie's Awa.
12 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? JOHN BYROM-A Pastoral. St. 8.
Brazen helm of daffodillies,
With a glitter toward the light.
Breathing perfumes west and south;
Holden ready for the fight.
Ah, ah, Cytherea! Adonis is dead.
was shed, And both turned into flowers for the earth's
garden-close; Her tears, to the wind-flower,-his blood, to the
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. CAMPBELL Field Flowers.
14 The berries of the brier rose
Have lost their rounded pride:
Are drooping heavy-eyed.
Nor which the comeliest shows, The timid, bashful violet
Or the royal-hearted rose:
The pansy in her purple dress,
The pink with cheek of red,
Like a bashful maid her head.
The fairy clocks strike their inaudible hour In field and woodland, and each punctual
flower Bows at the signal an obedient head
And hastes to bed. SUSAN COOLIDGE-Time to Go.
Where fall the tears of love the rose appears, And where the ground is bright with friendship's
tears, Forget-me-not, and violets, heavenly blue, Spring glittering with the cheerful drops like dew. BRYANT_Trans. of N. MÜLLER's Paradise of
Tears. 8 Who that has loved knows not the tender tale Which flowers reveal, when lips are coy to tell? BULWER-LYTTON-Corn Flowers. The First
Violets. Bk. I. St. 1.
Not a flower But shows some touch, in freckle, streak or stain, Of his unrivall’d pencil.
COWPER—The Task. Bk. VI. L. 241.
grass, like sparks that have leaped from the And all the meadows, wide unrolled,
kindling sun of summer. Were green and silver, green and gold,
HOLMES—The Professor at the BreakfastWhere buttercups and daisies spun
I remember, I remember
The roses, red and white, The harebells nod as she passes by,
The violets, and the lily-cups, The violet lifts its tender eye,
Those flowers made of light! The ferns bend her steps to greet,
The lilacs, where the robin built, And the mosses creep to her
And where my brother set JULIA C. R. DORR- Over the Wall.
The laburnum on his birthday,–
The tree is living yet. Up from the gardens floated the perfume
HOOD—I Remember, I Remember. of roses and myrtle, in their perfect bloom.
14 JULIA C. R. DORR—Vashti's Scroll. L. 91. I may not to the world impart
The secret of its power, The rose is fragrant, but it fades in time:
But treasured in my inmost heart The violet sweet, but quickly past the prime:
I keep my faded flower.
ELLEN C. HOWARTH—'Tis but a Little Faded White lilies hang their heads, and soon decay,
Flower. And white snow in minutes melts away.
15 DRYDEN—Trans. from Theocritus. The De
'Tis but a little faded flower, spairing Lover. L. 57.
But oh, how fondly dear! 5
'Twill bring me back one golden hour, The flowers of the forest are a' wede away.
Through many a weary year.
Growing one's own choice words and fancies GAY—Panthea. L. 71.
In orange tubs, and beds of pansies;
One's sighs and passionate declarations, They speak of hope to the fainting heart,
In odorous rhetoric of carnations. With a voice of promise they come and part, LEIGH HUNT-Love-Letters Made of Flowers. They sleep in dust through the wintry hours, They break forth in glory—bring flowers, bright Roses, and pinks, and violets, to adorn flowers!
The shrine of Flora in her early May, FELICIA D. HEMANS—Bring Flowers.
KEATS—Dedication to Leigh Hunt. Through the laburnum's dropping gold
Above his head Rose the light shaft of orient mould,
Four lily stalks did their white honours wed And Europe's violets, faintly sweet,
To make a coronal; and round him grew Purpled the moss-beds at its feet.
All tendrils green, of every bloom and hue, FELICIA D. HEMANS-Palm-Tree.
Together intertwined and trammell'd fresh;
The vine of glossy sprout; the ivy mesh, Faire pledges of a fruitful tree
Shading its Éthiop berries.
KEATS—Endymion. Bk. II. L. 413.
Young playmates of the rose and daffodil,
Be careful ere ye enter in, to fill And go at last.
Your baskets high HERRICK—To Blossoms.
With fennel green, and balm, and golden pines
Savory latter-mint, and columbines.
KEATS-Endymion. Bk. IV. L. 575.
Blendeth its odor with the violet,
KEATS—Eve of St. Agnes. St. 36.
And O and O,
The daisies blow, The thistle's purple bonnet,
And the primroses are waken'd; And bonny heather bell,
And the violets white Oh, they're the flowers of Scotland.
Sit in silver plight, All others that excel!
And the green bud's as long as the spike end. Hogy—The Flowers of Scotland.
KEATS-In a Letter to Haydon.
* the rose
Yellow japanned buttercups and star-disked dandelions, -just as we see them lying in the
Underneath large blue-bells tented
The foxglove, with its stately bells
He bore a simple wild-flower wreath:
Narcissus, and the sweet brier rose; Vervain, and flexile thyme, that breathe
Rich fragrance; modest heath, that glows With purple bells; the amaranth bright,
That no decay, nor fading knows,
And every purest flower, that blows
When spring on summer's confines presses.
to I. L. 107.
In Eastern lands they talk in flowers,
And they tell in a garland their loves and cares; Each blossom that blooms in their garden bowers,
On its leaves a mystic language bears.
Here blushing Flora paints th' enamell’d ground.
The silver birch its buds of purple shows,
But when they had unloosed the linen band, Which swathed the Egyptian's body,-lo! was
found, Closed in the wasted hollow of her hand,
A little seed, which, sown in English ground, Did wondrous snow of starry blossoms bear, And spread rich odours through our springtide air.
OSCAR WILDE-Athanasia. St. 2.
FLY We see spiders, flies, or ants entombed and pre served forever in amber, a more than royal tomb. BACON–Historia Vitæ et Mortis.
(Same idea under ANT, BEE) It was prettily devised of Æsop: The fly sat upon the axle-tree of the chariot-wheel, and said, What a dust do I raise! BACON-Of Vain-Glory, attributed to ÆSOP
but found in Fables of LAURENTIUS ABSTEMIUS.
(See also LA FONTAINE) We see how flies, and spiders, and the like, get a sepulchre in amber, more durable than the monument and embalming of the body of any king. BACON-Sylvia Sylvarum. Century I. Experiment 100.
(Same idea under ANT, BEE)
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
WORDSWORTH-Intimations of Immortality.
WORDSWORTH-Lines Written in Early Spring. The flower of sweetest smell is shy and lowly. WORDSWORTH-Sonnet. Not Love, Not War,
Haceos miel, y paparos han moscas.
Make yourself honey and the flies will devour you.
CERVANTES—Don Quixote. II. 43.
Hope smiled when your nativity was cast,
Top of the Pillars at the Entrance of the Cave.
hold. WORDSWORTH-Stanzas written in Thomson's
Castle of Indolence. There bloomed the strawberry of the wilderness; The trembling eyebright showed her sapphire
blue, The thyme her purple, like the blush of Even; And if the breath of some to no caress Invited, forth they peeped so fair to view, All kinds alike seemed favourites of Heaven. WORDSWORTH—The River Driddon. Flowers.
The fly that sips treacle is lost in the sweets.
(See also BACON) 20
The Lord shall hiss for the fly that is in the uttermost part of the rivers of Egypt.
Isaiah. VII. 18.
A fly sat on the chariot wheel
(See also BACON)
Busy, curious, thirsty fly,
WILLIAM OLDYS—The Fly.
23 Oh! that the memories which survive us here Were half so lovely as these wings of thine! Pure relics of a blameless life, that shine Now thou art gone. CHARLES (TENNYSON) TURNER- On Finding a
Small Fly Crushed in a Book.
O flower-de-luce, bloom on, and let the river
Linger to kiss thy feet!
The world more fair and sweet.
Lilies of all kinds,
Winter's Tale. Act IV. Sc. 4. L. 126.
How he crawls
Yet he never falls.