Home › F › Flowers-Kingcup

Flowers-Kingcup: Quotations from Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations

Jas in the Arab language is despair, And Min the darkest meaning of a lie. Thus cried the Jessamine among the flowers, How justly doth a lie Draw on its head despair! Among the fragrant spirits of the bowers The boldest and the strongest still was I. Although so fair, Therefore from Heaven A stronger perfume unto me was given Than any blossom of the summer hours. * * * * * * Among the flowers no perfume is like mine; That which is best in me comes from within. So those who in this world would rise and shine Should seek internal excellence to win. And though 'tis true that falsehood and despair Meet in my name, yet bear it still in mind That where they meet they perish. All is fair When they are gone and nought remains behind.— LELAND — Jessamine.

And the jasmine flower in her fair young breast, (O the faint, sweet smell of that jasmine flower!) And the one bird singing alone to his nest. And the one star over the tower. OWEN MEREDITH (Lord Lytton)- Aux Italiens. St. 13. It smelt so faint, and it smelt so sweet It made me creep and it made me cold. Like the scent that steals from the crumbling sheet Where a mummy is half unroll'd. OWEN MEREDITH (Lord Lytton)- Aux Italiens. Out in the lonely woods the jasmine burns Its fragrant lamps, and turns Into a royal court with green festoons The banks of dark lagoons.— HENRY TIMROD — Spring.

Kingcup (Buttercup). Ranunculus. The royal kingcup bold Dares not don his coat of gold.— EDWIN ARNOLD — Almond Blossoms.

With kingcups and daisies, that all the year please, Sprays, petals, and leaflets, that nod in the breeze. S.— COLERIDGE — Morning Invitation to a

Child. Fair is the kingcup that in meadow blows, Fair is the daisy that beside her grows.— GAY — Shepherd's Week. Monday. L. 43

The gold-eyed kingcups fine, The frail bluebell peereth over Rare broidery of the purple clover.— TENNYSON — A Dirge. St. VI.

Laurel. Laurus. Wait till the laurel bursts its buds, And creeping ivy flings its graces About the lichen'd rocks, and floods Of sunshine fill the shady places.— MARGARET J. PRESTON — Through the

Pass. This flower that smells of honey and the sea, White laurustine, seems in my hand to be A white star made of memory long ago Lit in the heaven of dear times dead to me.— SWINBURNE — Relics.

Lily. Lilium. I like not lady-slippers, Nor yet the sweet-pea blossoms, Nor yet the flaky roses, Red or white as snow; I like the chaliced lilies, The heavy Eastern lilies, The gorgeous tiger-lilies, That in our garden grow.— T. B. ALDRICH — Tiger Lilies. St. 1.

Blossoms, all around me sighing, Fragrance, from the lilies straying.— MARIA BROOKS — Song of Egla.

And lilies are still lilies, pulled By smutty hands, though spotted from their white.— E. B. BROWNING — Aurora Leigh. Bk. III.

And lilies white, prepared to touch The whitest thought, nor soil it much, Of dreamer turned to lover.— E. B. BROWNING — A Flower in a

Letter. *** purple lilies Dante blew To a larger bubble with his prophet breath.— E. B. BROWNING — Aurora Leigh. Bk. VII.

Very whitely still The lilies of our lives may reassure Their blossoms from their roots, accessible Alone to heavenly dews that drop not fewer; Growing straight out of man's reach, on the hill God only, who made us rich, can make us poor.— E. B. BROWNING — Sonnets from the

Portuguese. XXIV.