Plants

Gardens are our link with the divine.
~ William Howard Adams

The flower which we do not pluck is the only one that never loses its beauty or its fragrance.
~ William Rounseville (W.R.) Alger

Pluck not the wayside flower,
It is the traveller's dower;
A thousand passers-by
Its beauties may espy,
May win a touch of blessing
From Nature's mild caressing.
~ William Allingham, from Songs Ballads and Stories (1877). Day and Night Songs. Wayside Flowers

If a flower blooms once, it goes on blooming somewhere forever. It blooms on for whoever has seen it blooming.
~ William H. Armstrong, Sounder (1969).

Every fruitful vine has a strong elm to which it clings; every strong elm supports a fruitful vine.
~ William Arnot, The Parables of Our Lord (1884). Introduction

The earth, and the air, and the sun, and the rain nourish every plant that grows.
~ William Arnot, in The Family Treasury (1861). Roots and Bitterness: The Ailment and the Cure

For ye, too, were flowers, ye dear ones!
Nursed in hope and reared in love,
Looking fondly ever upward
To the clear blue heaven above.
~ William Edmondstoune (W.E.) Aytoun, from Lays of the Scottish Cavaliers (1849). The Buried Flower

Ah Sun-flower! weary of time,
Who countest the steps of the Sun:
Seeking after that sweet golden clime
Where the traveller's journey is done.
~ William Blake, from Songs of Experience (1794). Ah! Sun-Flower

O rose, thou art sick!
The invisible worm
That flies in the night,
In the howling storm,
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy,
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.
~ William Blake, from Songs of Experience (1794). The Sick Rose

To create a little flower is the labor of ages.
~ William Blake, The Marriage of Heaven and Hell (1790-93). Proverbs of Hell

Poor little maid, whose city yard
Is a world of happy dreams to you --
God grant some day your dreams come true.
~ William Stanley Braithwaite, from Lyrics of Life and Love (1904). A City Garden

Dreary is the time when the flowers of earth are withered.
~ William Cullen Bryant, from Thirty Poems (1864). The Third of November, 1861

That delicate forest flower,
With scented breath and look so like a smile,
Seems, as it issues from the shapeless mould,
An emanation of the indwelling Life,
A visible token of the upholding Love,
That are the soul of this great universe.
~ William Cullen Bryant, from Poems (1832 edition). Forest Hymn (written in 1825)

The daffodil is our doorside queen;
She pushes upward the sword already,
To spot with sunshine the early green.
~ William Cullen Bryant, from Thirty Poems (1864). An Invitation to the Country

Thy early smile has stayed my walk;
But midst the gorgeous blooms of May,
I passed thee on thy humble stalk.
~ William Cullen Bryant, from Poems (1821). The Yellow Violet

We are fully persuaded, for our part, that scarce anything is more prejudicial to the fertility of a country, or has a worse effect on its climate, than the thoughtless practice of denuding it of trees.
~ William Cullen Bryant, Editorial in the New York Evening Post (20 June 1865). The Utility of Trees

We plant, upon the sunny lea,
A shadow for the noontide hour,
A shelter from the summer shower,
When we plant the apple-tree.
~ William Cullen Bryant, from Thirty Poems (1864). The Planting of the Apple-Tree. Stanza 2

When beechen buds begin to swell,
And woods the blue-bird's warble know,
The yellow violet's modest bell
Peeps from the last year's leaves below.
~ William Cullen Bryant, from Poems (1821). The Yellow Violet

Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprang and stood
In brighter light and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood?
~ William Cullen Bryant, from Poems (1832 edition). The Death of the Flowers

The sweet, love-planted Christmas-tree.
~ William McKendree ("Will") Carleton, from Poems for Young Americans (1906). The Christmas-tree

I like trees because they seem more resigned to the way they have to live than other things do. I feel as if this tree knows everything I ever think of when I sit here. When I come back to it, I never have to remind it of anything; I begin just where I left off.
~ Willa Sibert Cather, O Pioneers! (1913). Part II. Neighboring Fields. Chapter VIII

Oh, this is the joy of the rose;
That it blows,
And goes.
~ Willa Sibert Cather, from April Twilights (1903). In Rose Time

I haven't much time to be fond of anything. ... But when I have a moment's fondness to bestow, most times ... the roses get it.
~ (William) Wilkie Collins, The Moonstone (1868).

But where will fierce contention end
If flow'rs can disagree?
~ William Cowper, from Poems by William Cowper of the Inner Temple, Esq. (1782). The Lily and the Rose

No tree in all the grove but has its charms.
~ William Cowper, The Task (1785). Book I. The Sofa

Pernicious weed! whose scent the fair annoys,
Unfriendly to society's chief joys,
Thy worst effect is banishing for hours
The sex whose presence civilizes ours.
~ William Cowper (of tobacco), from Poems by William Cowper of the Inner Temple, Esq. (1782). Conversation

The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flow'r.
~ William Cowper, from Olney Hymns (1779). Book III: On the Rise, Progress, Changes, and Comforts of the Spiritual Life. Light Shining Out of Darkness

Who loves a garden loves a greenhouse too.
~ William Cowper, The Task (1785). Book III. The Garden

It is difficult to estimate how great a part of all that is cheerful and delightful in the recollections of our life is associated with trees. They are allied with the songs of morn, with the quiet of noonday, with social gatherings under the evening sky, and with the beauty and attractiveness of every season.
~ Wilson Flagg, The Woods and By-Ways of New England (1872). Relations of Trees to Poetry and Fable

Let him reflect upon Horses and Dogs, Wine and Women, Cards and Folly, etc. and then upon Planting. Will not the last engross his Whole Mind, and appear worthy of employing all his Attention? Can there be a more genteel, a more rational Amusement? Can any thing tend more to the preserving of Health, and the prolonging of Life? Can any thing be more innocent, or productive of greater Pleasure?
~ William Hanbury, Essay on Planting (1758).

Trees have about them something very fair and attractive even in this, -- that to the fancy, since they cannot change their places, they are witnesses of every change that occurs on the spot; and as some reach an exceedingly great age, they resemble historical monuments, and, like ourselves, they have a life, growing and passing away.
~ Wilhelm von Humboldt, in Letters of William Von Humboldt to a Female Friend, Vol. I (1849 translation). Letter LXXI. Tegel. May 23, 1827

One of the most delightful things about a garden is the anticipation it provides.
~ William Earl (W.E.) Johns, The Passing Show (1937).

The moon looks upon many night-flowers; the night-flower sees but one moon.
~ Sir William Jones

Seethe much Rosemary, and bathe therein to make thee lusty, lively, joyfull, likeing and youngly.
~ William Langham, Garden of Health (1579).

Skill and pains, bring fruitful gains.
~ William Lawson, A New Orchard and Garden (1597).

The flower may seem exotic to us whose lives are so practical and so complex, yet we may learn something from those who thought first of Love and Joy and Song.
~ William Lindsey, from The Severed Mantle (1909). Foreward

[T]he sun flooded the garden with its magnificence, and there was a beauty in the morning that told more eloquently than human words the good lesson that life is to the living and the world is full of joy.
~ W. Somerset Maugham, The Merry-Go-Round (1904).

And I will place my affection on this little flower,
And it will solace me in a lonely hour.
~ William Topaz McGonagall, from Poetic Gems (1890). Forget-Me-Not

I do not care or labor give
To be what I am not, or where,
But try my own best life to live
From what surrounds me, here or there.
~ William Henry Porter, from Canadian Scenes And Other Poems (1907). Miscellaneous Poems. A Wayside Flower

To most people a pretty plant in the wild state is more attractive than any garden denizen. It is free, and taking care of itself.
~ William Robinson, The Wild Garden (1870). Part I. Explanatory

Fair flowers that are not gather'd in their prime
Rot and consume themselves in little time.
~ William Shakespeare, Venus and Adonis (1593).

For you there's rosemary and rue; these keep
Seeming and savour all the winter long.
~ William Shakespeare, The Winter's Tale. Act IV, scene iii

[S]weet flowers are slow and weeds make haste.
~ William Shakespeare, King Richard III. Act II, scene iv

The marigold, that goes to bed wi' the sun,
And with him rising weeping.
~ William Shakespeare, The Winter's Tale. Act IV, scene iv

There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray, love, remember; and there is pansies, that's for thoughts.
~ William Shakespeare, Hamlet. Act IV, scene v

This is an art
Which does mend nature, change it rather, but
The art itself is nature.
~ William Shakespeare, The Winter's Tale. Act IV, scene iii

Thou, old Adam's likeness, set to dress this garden.
~ William Shakespeare, King Richard II. Act III, scene iv

Two lovely berries moulded on one stem.
~ William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act III, scene ii

How pleased within my native bowers
Erewhile I pass'd the day!
Was ever scene so deck'd with flowers?
Were ever flowers so gay?
~ William Shenstone, Song 2: The landscape

O Chloris, weigh the task I undertake!
Thy beauty, subject of my Song I make.
~ William Smith, Chloris, Or The Complaint Of The Passionate Despised Shepherd (1596). Sonnet II

The rose upon my balcony the morning air perfuming,
Was leafless all the winter time and pining for the spring.
~ William Makepeace Thackeray, Vanity Fair: A Novel without a Hero (1848). Chapter LI. In Which A Charade Is Acted Which May Or May Not Puzzle The Reader

Surely, lovely flowers are the smiles of His goodness.
~ William Wilberforce

A weed is but an unloved flower!
~ Ella Wheeler Wilcox, from New Thought Pastels (1906). The Weed

People are turning to their gardens not to consume but to actively create, not to escape from reality but to observe it closely. In doing this they experience the connectedness of creation and the profoundest sources of being. That the world we live in and the activity of making it are one seamless whole is something that we may occasionally glimpse. In the garden, we know.
~ Carol Williams, Bringing a Garden to Life (1998).

The golden rule of gardening is to pay attention to local conditions of weather and soil.
~ Carol Williams, Bringing a Garden to Life (1998).

Usually, children spend more time in the garden than anybody else. It is where they learn about the world, because they can be in it unsupervised, yet protected. Some gardeners will remember from their own earliest recollections that no one sees the garden as vividly, or cares about it as passionately, as the child who grows up in it.
~ Carol Williams, Bringing a Garden to Life (1998).

Well I love the way the world is your garden
And you plant your seeds and you let them grow
And you take things out of the ground just like
You take what comes, but you never know.
~ Dar Williams, in The Green World (2000 album). What Do You Love More Than Love?

One administration will be more pink, another more yellow.
~ Irv Williams (on changes in the Rose Garden), in The New York Times (4 April 1985).

The violets in the mountains have broken the rocks.
~ Thomas Lanier ("Tennessee") Williams, Camino Real (1953).

A profusion of pink roses being ragged in the rain speaks to me of all gentleness and its enduring.
~ William Carlos Williams, from The Collected Later Poems of William Carlos Williams (1950).

The elm is scattering
its little loaves
of sweet smells
from a white sky!
~ William Carlos Williams, from Al Que Quiere! A Book of Poems (1917). Love Song

The trees--being trees
thrash and scream
guffaw and curse--
wholly abandoned
damning the race of men.
~ William Carlos Williams, from Collected Poems, 1921-1931 (1934). The Trees

We lived long together
a life filled,
if you will,
with flowers. So that
I was cheered
when I came first to know
that there were flowers also
in hell.
~ William Carlos Williams, from Journey to Love (1955). Asphodel, That Greeny Flower

Look, my dear ma! What beautiful flowers I have found growing in our place! Why, all the woods are full of them!
~ Alexander Wilson, American Ornithology (1808). Preface

If you want the fruit to fall,
You have to give the tree a shake.
If you shake the tree too hard,
The bough is gonna break.
~ Danny Wilson, Mary's Prayer (song lyric).

[T]he story of the tree is, after all, the commonplace story of the triumph of the beautiful over the sordid cares of life. And it demonstrates anew the truism that beauty is transcendental.
~ Ernest Henry (E.H.) Wilson, The Romance Of Our Trees (1920). Chapter VIII. The Story of the Horsechestnut

You can complain because roses have thorns, or you can rejoice because thorns have roses.
~ Tom Wilson, Ziggy

A brotherhood of venerable trees.
~ William Wordsworth, from Poems in Two Volumes, Volume II (1807). Sonnet composed at ---- Castle

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
~ William Wordsworth, I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud (1804).

How does the Meadow-flower its bloom unfold?
Because the lovely little flower is free
Down to its root, and, in that freedom, bold.
~ William Wordsworth, A Poet! He Hath Put His Heart to School

The Rainbow comes and goes,
And lovely is the Rose.
~ William Wordsworth, from Poems in Two Volumes (1807). Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood, II

'Tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breaths.
~ William Wordsworth, from Lyrical Ballads (1798). Lines Written in Early Spring

To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
~ William Wordsworth, from Poems in Two Volumes (1807). Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood, XI

What the garden stood for -- what it expressed -- left a mysterious but certain impress.
~ Jacob William Wright, The Long Ago (1916). The Garden

[L]et the silent beauty of the flowers teach us to do all the good we can and make no fuss about it.
~ William Burnet Wright, The World to Come (1887). XVII. Flower Sunday