Kate Greenaway

Biographical details

Portrait of Kate Greenaway Kate Greenaway,  Language of Flowers

“ And fare thee weel, my only luve!
And fare thee weel a while;
And I will come again, my luve,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile.
Burns. Virgins promised when I died,
That they would each primrose-tide
Duly, morn and evening, come,
And with flowers dress my tomb.
—Having promised, pay your debts,
Maids, and here strew violets.
Robert Herrick. Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory;
Odours when sweet violets sicken,
Love within the sense they quicken.
Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heaped for the beloved's bed
”
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Kate Greenaway Kate Greenaway,  Marigold Garden

“ But the sound of their singing, like church bells ringing,
Would sweetly float as they passed away.
For under the sun, and under the stars,
They often sailed on the distant sea;
Then in their Green Tower and Roses bower
They lived again—a mystery.
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WHEN YOU AND I GROW UP.
When you and I
Grow up—Polly—
I mean that you and me,
Shall go sailing in a big ship
Right over all the sea.
We'll wait till we are older,
For if we went to-day,
You know that we might lose ourselves,
And never find the way.
”
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Kate Greenaway Kate Greenaway,  Language of Flowers

“ Is it with thy kisses or thy tears?
For never rain or dew
Such fragrance drew
From plant or flower; the very doubt endears
My sadness ever new,
The sighs I breathe, the tears I shed, for thee.
P. B. Shelley. There grew pied Wind-flowers and Violets,
Daisies, those pearl'd Arcturi of the earth,
The constellated flowers that never set;
Faint Oxlips; tender Blue-bells, at whose birth
The sod scarce heaved; and that tall flower that wets
Its mother's face with Heaven-collected tears,
When the low wind, its playmate's voice, it hears.
”
Source: Gutenberg

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