They will have a place in story.
—WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.
Go, azure myrtle blossom,
Go, violets and jasmine fair,
And star the darkness of her hair,
Or faint against her bosom.
—GRACE GREENWOOD.
Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies,
The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine,
The white pink and the pansy freaked with jet,