Showing posts with label language of flowers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label language of flowers. Show all posts
Monday, June 1, 2009
Saturday, May 16, 2009
#12: Thoughts of Love
In the Spring the wanton lapwing gets himself another crest;
In the Spring a livelier iris changes on the burnished dove;
In the Spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.
-Tennyson
Labels:
garden,
iris,
language of flowers,
poetry,
Tennyson
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)

