“A flower blossoms for its own joy.”
― Oscar Wilde
Flowers
And Spring arose on the garden fair,
Like the Spirit of Love felt everywhere;
And each flower and herb on Earth’s dark breast
rose from the dreams of its wintry rest.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Video edited by Andreea Petcu
Love is like a beautiful flower which I may not touch, but whose fragrance makes the garden a place of delight just the same. – Helen Keller
by: Paul Laurence Dunbar
These are the days of elfs and fays:
Who says that with the dreams of myth,
These imps and elves disport themselves?
Ah no, along the paths of song
Do all the tiny folk belong.
Round all our homes,
Kobolds and gnomes do daily cling,
Then nightly fling their lanterns out.
And shout on shout, they join the rout,
And sing, and sing, within the sweet enchanted ring.
Where gleamed the guile of moonlight’s smile,
Once paused I, listening for a while,
And heard the lay, unknown by day–
The fairies’ dancing roundelay.
Queen Mab was there, her shimmering hair
Each fairy prince’s heart’s despair.
She smiled to see their sparkling glee,
And once I ween, she smiled at me.
Since when, you may by night or day,
Dispute the sway of elf-folk gay;
But, hear me, stay!
I’ve learned the way to find Queen Mab and elf and fay.
Where e’er by streams, the moonlight gleams,
Or on a meadow softly beams,
There, footing round on dew-lit ground,
The fairy folk may all be found.
To see the world in a grain of sand
And heaven in a wild flower
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in a hour
“The first man to compare the cheeks of a young woman to a rose was obviously a poet; the first to repeat it was possibly an idiot.” – Salvador Dali
An old man in love is like a flower in winter. – Portuguese proverb
‘A Red, Red Rose’ by Robert Burns, sung by Andy M. Stewart
O my Luve’s like a red, red rose That’s newly sprung in June; O my Luve’s like the melodie That’s sweetly song in tune. As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in luve am I And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a’ the seas gang dry: Till a’ the seas gang dry, my love, And the rocks melt wi’ the sun: I will luve thee still, my dear, While the sands o’ life shall run. And fare thee well, my only Luve And fare thee well, a while! And I will come again, my Luve, Tho’ it were ten thousand mile.
There Is a Lady Sweet and Kind
by Thomas Ford
There is a lady sweet and kind,
Was never face so pleas’d my mind;
I did but see her passing by,
And yet I love her till I die.
Her gesture, motion, and her smiles,
Her wit, her voice, my heart beguiles,
Beguiles my heart, I know not why,
And yet I love her till I die.
Her free behaviour, winning looks,
Will make a lawyer burn his books;
I touch’d her not, alas! not I,
And yet I love her till I die
Had I her fast betwixt mine arms,
Judge you that think such sports were harms,
Were’t any harm? no, no, fie, fie,
For I will love her till I die.
Should I remain confined there
So long as Ph{oe}bus in his sphere,
I to request, she to deny,
Yet would I love her till I die.
Cupid is winged and doth range,
Her country so my love doth change:
But change she earth, or change she sky,
Yet will I love her till I die.
The flowers of late winter and early spring occupy places in our hearts well out of proportion to their size. – Gertrude S. Wister
Neither a lofty degree of intelligence nor imagination nor both together go to the making of genius. Love, love, love, that is the soul of genius.
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
Maverick Mist 