The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers.
Lowly, with a broken neck,
The crocus lays her cheek to mire.
- George Meredith
Oh, my luve’s like a red, red rose,
That ’s newly sprung in June,
Oh, my luve’s like the melody
That’s sweetly played in tune.
- Robert Burns
I will be the gladdest thing under the sun!
I will touch a hundred flowers And not pick one.
- Edna St. Vincent Millay