When spring unlocks the flowers to paint the laughing soil.—Bishop Heber.
O, for a seat in some poetic nook,
Just hid with trees and sparkling with a brook.—Leigh Hunt.
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.—Christopher Marlowe.
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.—Wordsworth.