Summer set lip to earth's bosom bare,
And left the flushed print in a poppy there.
- Francis Thompson
You love the roses - so do I.
I wish the sky would rain down roses, as they rain from off the shaken bush.
Why will it not?
Then all the valley would be pink and white and soft to tread on.
They would fall as light as feathers, smelling sweet, and it would be like sleeping and like waking, all at once!
- George Eliot
Lowly, with a broken neck,
The crocus lays her cheek to mire.
- George Meredith
If thou canst but thither,
There grows the flower of Peace,
The rose that cannot wither,
Thy fortress and thy ease.
- Henry Vaughn