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A love-tint flushes the wind-flower’s cheek,
Rich melodies gush from the violet’s beak,
On the rifts of the rock, the wild columbines grow,
Their heavy honey-cups bending low.

— Sarah Helen Whitman Attributed Forty Thousand Quotations (1917)

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More quotes by Sarah Helen Whitman

The sweet imperious mouth, whose haughty valor
Defied all portents of impending doom.

Poems (1879)

Enchantress of the stormy seas,
Priestess of Night's high mysteries!

Poems (1879)

When summer gathers up her robes of glory,
And, like a dream of beauty, glides away.

Poems (1879)

The shy little may-flower weaves her nest;
But the south wind blows o'er the fragrant loam,
And betrays the path to her woodland home.

Poems (1879)

Beside the brook and on the umbered meadow,
Where yellow fern-tufts fleck the faded ground,
With folded lids beneath their palmy shadow,
The gentian nods, in dewy slumbers bound.

Poems (1879)

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Attribution

Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: Sarah Helen Whitman (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.