Kate Greenaway

Kate Greenaway

Summary

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,  Language of Flowers

“ SONNET. Sweet is the rose, but growes upon a brere;
Sweet is the Juniper, but sharpe his bough;
Sweet is the Eglantine, but pricketh nere;
Sweet is the Firbloom, but his branches rough;
Sweet is the Cypress, but his rind is tough,
Sweet is the Nut, but bitter is his pill;
Sweet is the Broome-flowere, but yet sowre enough;
And sweet is Moly, but his roote is ill.
So every sweet with sowre is tempred still,
That maketh it be coveted the more:
For easie things that may be got at will,
Most sorts of men doe set but little store.
”
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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