And the blue gentian flower, that, in the breeze, Nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last.

Weep not that the world changes-did it keep A stable, changeless state, 'twere cause indeed to weep.

Loveliest of lovely things are they, On earth, that soonest pass away. The rose that lives its little hour Is prized beyond the sculptured flower.

Remorse is virtue's root; its fair increase Are fruits of innocence and blessedness.

Gather the flowers, but spare the buds.

Dear common flower, that grow'st beside the way, Fringing the dusty road with harmless gold, First pledge of blithesome May, Which children pluck, and, full of…

Flowers ... that are so pathetic in their beauty, frail as the clouds, and in their colouring as gorgeous as the heavens, had through thousands of years been t…