GIGA THE MOST EXTENSIVE
COLLECTION OF
QUOTATIONS
ON THE INTERNET
Google
Search GIGA
Loading
Home
Page
GIGA
Quotes
Biographical
Name Index
Biographical
Name List
Chronological
Name Index
Topic
List
Reading
List
Site
Notes
Crossword
Solver
Anagram
Solver
SubAnagram
Solver
TOPICS:          A   B   C   D   E   F   G   H   I   J   K   L   M   N   O   P   Q   R   S   T   U   V   W   X   Y   Z
PEOPLE:    #   A   B   C   D   E   F   G   H   I   J   K   L   M   N   O   P   Q   R   S   T   U   V   W   X   Y   Z


FLOWERS
 << Prev Page    Displaying page 7 of 8    Next Page >> 
[ Also see Almonds Amaranths Amaryllis Anemones Apple Blossoms Arbutus Asphodels Asters Azaleas Bluebells Buttercups Camomiles Cardinal Flowers Celandines Chrysanthemums Clover Columbines Country Life Cowslips Crocuses Daffodils Daisies Dandelions Dew Flower-de-luce Forget-me-nots Gardens Gentians Goldenrods Gorses Harebells Heliotropes Hepaticas Honeysuckles Hyacinths Indian Pipes Irises Jasmines Lilacs Lilies Lilies-of-the-valley Lotuses Love Lies Bleeding Marigolds Marsh Marigolds Moccasin Flowers Morning-glories Musk Roses Myrtle Narcissus Nature Oranges Orchids Pansies Passion Flowers Pinks Plants Poppies Primroses Rosemaries Roses Safflowers Sloes Snowdrops Spring Sunflowers Sweetbrier Roses Thistles Thorn Thyme Trees Tuberose Tulips Violets Water Lilies Wild Roses Windflowers Woodbines ]

I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
  Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
    Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
      With sweet must-roses, and with eglantine.
      - William Shakespeare,
        A Midsummer Night's Dream
         (Oberon at II, ii)

These flow'rs are like the pleasures of the world;
  This bloody man, the care on't.
      - William Shakespeare, Cymbeline
         (Imogen at IV, ii)

With fairest flowers,
  Whilst summer lasts and I live here, Fidele,
    I'll sweeten thy sad grave. Thou shalt not lack
      The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose; nor
        The azured harebell, like thy veins; no, nor
          The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander,
            Outsweet'ned not thy breath.
      - William Shakespeare, Cymbeline
         (Arviragus at IV, ii)

When daisies pied and violets blue
  And lady-smocks all silver-white
    And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue
      Do paint the meadows with delight,
        The cuckoo then, on every tree,
          Mocks married men: for thus sings he, Cuckoo;
            Cuckoo, cuckoo: O, word of fear,
              Unpleasing to a married ear!
      - William Shakespeare, Love's Labor's Lost
         (Spring at V, ii)

No, I will rob Tellus of her weed,
  To strow thy green with flowers. The yellows, blues,
    The purple violets, and marigolds,
      Shall, as a carpet, hand upon thy grave,
        While summer days do last.
      - William Shakespeare,
        Pericles Prince of Tyre
         (Marina at IV, i)

Th' expressure that it bears, green let it be,
  More fertile-fresh than all the field to see;
    And 'Honi soit qui mal y pense' write
      In emerald tufts, flowers purple, blue, and white,
        Like sapphire, pearl, and rich embroidery,
          Buckled below fair knighthood's bending knee.
            (Fairies use flowers for their character.)
      - William Shakespeare,
        The Merry Wives of Windsor
         (Mistress Quickly at V, v)

I would I had some flowers o' th' spring that might
  Become your time of day, and yours, and yours,
    That wear upon your virgin branches yet
      Your maidenheads growing. O, Proserpina,
        For the flowers now that, frighted, thou let'st fall
          From Dis's wagon; daffodils,
            That come before the swallow dares, and take
              The winds of March with beauty; violets dim,
                But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes
                  Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses,
                    That die unmarried, ere they can behold
                      Bright Phoebus in his strength--a malady
                        Most incident to maids; bold oxlips and
                          The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds,
                            The flower-de-luce being one.
      - William Shakespeare, The Winter's Tale
         (Perdita at IV, iv)

O Prosperina,
  For the flowers now that, frighted, thou let'st fall
    From Dis's wagon; daffodils,
      That come before the swallow dares, and take
        The winds of March with beauty; violets dim,
          But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes
            Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses,
              That die unmarried, ere they can behold
                Bright Phoebus in his strength--a malady
                  Most incident to maids; bold oxlips and
                    The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds,
                      The flower-de-luce being one.
      - William Shakespeare, The Winter's Tale
         (Perdita at IV, iv)

Sir, the year growing ancient,
  Not yet on summer's death nor on the birth
    Of trembling winter, the fairest flowers o' th' season
      Are our carnations and streaked gillyvors,
        Which some call nature's bastards.
      - William Shakespeare, The Winter's Tale
         (Perdita at IV, iv)

And the spring arose on the garden fair like the spirit of Love felt everywhere.
      - Percy Bysshe Shelley

There grew pied wind-flowers and violets,
  Daisies, those pearled Arcturi of the earth,
    The constellated flower that never sets.
      - Percy Bysshe Shelley, The Question

Floral apostles! that in dewy splendor weep without woe, and blush without a crime.
      - Horace (Horatio) Smith (a/k/a Paul Chatfield)

Your voiceless lips, O flowers, are living preachers--each cup a pulpit, and each leaf a book.
      - Horace (Horatio) Smith (a/k/a Paul Chatfield)

Day stars! that ope your frownless eyes to twinkle
  From rainbow galaxies of earth's creation,
    And dew-drops on her lonely altars sprinkle
      As a libation.
      - Horace (Horatio) Smith (a/k/a Paul Chatfield),
        Hymn to the Flowers

Ye bright Mosaics! That with storied beauty,
  The floor of Nature's temple tesselate,
    What numerous emblems of instructive duty
      Your forms create!
      - Horace (Horatio) Smith (a/k/a Paul Chatfield),
        Hymn to the Flowers

The herb feeds upon the juice of a good soil, and drinks in the dew of heaven as eagerly, and thrives by it as effectually, as the stalled ox that tastes everything that he eats or drinks.
      - Bishop Robert South

There is not the least flower but seems to hold up its head and to look pleasantly, in the secret sense of the goodness of its Heavenly Maker.
      - Bishop Robert South

Sweet is the rose, but grows upon a brere;
  Sweet is the juniper, but sharp his bough;
    Sweet is the eglantine, but stiketh nere;
      Sweet is the firbloome, but its braunches rough;
        Sweet is the cypress, but its rynd is tough;
          Sweet is the nut, but bitter is his pill;
            Sweet is the broome-flowre, but yet sowre enough;
              And sweet is moly, but his root is ill.
      - Edmund Spenser, Amoretti (sonnet XXVI)

Roses red and violets blew,
  And all the sweetest flowres that in the forrest grew.
      - Edmund Spenser, The Faerie Queene
         (bk. III, canto VI, st. 6)

The violets ope their purple heads;
  The roses blow, the cowslip springs.
      - Jonathan Swift,
        Answer to a Scandalous Poem (l. 150)

Primrose-eyes each morning ope
  In their cool, deep beds of grass;
    Violets make the air that pass
      Tell-tales of their fragrant slope.
      - Bayard Taylor,
        Home and Travel--Ariel in the Cloven Pine
         (l. 57)

The aquilegia sprinkled on the rocks
  A scarlet rain; the yellow violet
    Sat in the chariot of its leaves, the phlox
      Held spikes of purple flame in meadows wet,
        And all the streams with vernal-scented reed
          Were fringed, and streaky bellow of miskodeed.
      - Bayard Taylor, Home and Travel--Mon-Da-Min
         (st. 17)

The gold-eyed kingcups fine,
  The frail bluebell peereth over
    Rare broidery of the purple clover.
      - Lord Alfred Tennyson, A Dirge (st. 6)

With roses musky-breathed,
  And drooping daffodilly,
    And silver-leaved lily.
      And ivy darkly-wreathed
        I wove a crown before her,
          For her I love so dearly.
      - Lord Alfred Tennyson, Anacreontics

The slender acacia would not shake
  One long milk-bloom on the tree;
    The white lake-blossom fell into the lake
      As the pimpernel dozed on the lea;
        But the rose was awake all night for your sake,
          Knowing your promise to me;
            The lilies and roses were all awake,
              They sighed for the dawn and thee.
      - Lord Alfred Tennyson, Maud
         (pt. XXII, st. 8)


Displaying page 7 of 8 for this topic:   << Prev  Next >>  1 2 3 4 5 6 [7] 8

 WWW.GIGA-USA.COM     Back to Top of Page 
The GIGA name and the GIGA logo are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office.
GIGA-USA and GIGA-USA.COM are servicemarks of the domain owner.
Copyright © 1999-2016 John C. Shepard. All Rights Reserved.
Last Revised: 2016 June 16
Click > HERE < to report errors