Sonnet.--The Lotus.

Love came to Flora asking for a flower
That would of flowers be undisputed queen,
The lily and the rose, long, long had been
Rivals for that high honour. Bards of power
Had sung their claims. "The rose can never tower
Like the pale lily with her Juno mien"--
"But is the lily lovelier?" Thus between
Flower-factions rang the strife in Psyche's bower.
"Give me a flower delicious as the rose
And stately as the lily in her pride"--
"But of what colour?"--"Rose-red," Love first chose,
Then prayed,--"No, lily-white,--or, both provide;"
And Flora gave the lotus, "rose-red" dyed,
And "lily-white,"--the queenliest flower that blows.

Toru Dutt

Toru Dutt was an Indian poet who wrote in English and French. Despite her short life, her work left an indelible mark on Indian literature. She is considered one of the founding figures of Indo-Anglian literature. Dutt's poetry and writings often explored themes of identity, culture, and colonialism. Her notable works include 'A Sheaf Gleaned in French Fields' and 'Ancient Ballads and Legends of Hindustan.'

Toru Dutt

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Toru Dutt, Simple Poetry

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Toru Dutt, Simple Poetry

Sindhu. Part I.

Toru Dutt, Simple Poetry

English

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The Lily And The Rose.

The nymph must lose her female friend,
If more admired than she
But where will fierce contention end,
If flowers can disagree?


Within the gardens peaceful scene
Appeard two lovely foes,
Aspiring to the rank of queen,
The Lily and the Rose.


The Rose soon reddend into rage,
And, swelling with disdain,
Appeald to many a poets page
To prove her right to reign.


The Lilys height bespoke command,
A fair imperial flower;
She seemd designd for Floras hand,
The sceptre of her power.


This civil bickering and debate
The goddess chanced to hear,
And flew to save, ere yet too late,
The pride of the parterre.


Yours is, she said, the nobler hue,
And yours the statelier mien;
An...

William Cowper

The Wedding of the Rose and the Lotos

    The wide Pacific waters
    And the Atlantic meet.
    With cries of joy they mingle,
    In tides of love they greet.
    Above the drowned ages
    A wind of wooing blows: -
    The red rose woos the lotos,
    The lotos woos the rose . . .

    The lotos conquered Egypt.
    The rose was loved in Rome.
    Great India crowned the lotos:
    (Britain the rose's home).
    Old China crowned the lotos,
    They crowned it in Japan.
    But Christendom adored the rose
    Ere Christendom began . . .

    The lotos speaks of slumber:
    The rose is as a dart.
    The lotos is Nirvana:
    The rose is Mary's heart.
    The rose is deathless, restless,
    The splendor of our pain:
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 ...

Vachel Lindsay

Lotus Hurt By The Cold

How many times, like lotus lilies risen
Upon the surface of a river, there
Have risen floating on my blood the rare
Soft glimmers of my hope escaped from prison.

So I am clothed all over with the light
And sensitive beautiful blossoming of passion;
Till naked for her in the finest fashion
The flowers of all my mud swim into sight.

And then I offer all myself unto
This woman who likes to love me: but she turns
A look of hate upon the flower that burns
To break and pour her out its precious dew.

And slowly all the blossom shuts in pain,
And all the lotus buds of love sink over
To die unopened: when my moon-faced lover,
Kind on the weight of suffering, smiles again.

David Herbert Richards Lawrence

Queen Summer Or, The Tourney Of The Lily And The Rose

When Summer on the earth was queen
She held her court in gardens green
Fair hung with tapestry of leaves,
Where threads of gold the sun enweaves
With checquered patterns on the floor
Of velvet lawns the scythe smoothes o'er:
Their waving fans the soft winds spread
Each way to cool Queen Summer's head:
The woodland dove made music soft,
And Eros touched his lute full oft.


Round Time's dial thronged the hours,
Masking in the Masque of Flowers


Like knights and ladies fair be-dight
In silk attire, both red and white.


And as the winds about them played,
And shook the flowers or disarrayed,


A whispered word among them goes
Of how the Lily flouts the Rose,


Suitors for Summer's favor dear,
To w...

Walter Crane

Five Fancies.

I

THE GLADIOLAS.

As tall as the lily, as tall as the rose,
And almost as tall as the hollyhocks,
Ranked breast to breast in sentinel rows
Stand the gladiola stocks.

And some are red as the humming-bird's blood
And some are pied as the butterfly race,
And each is shaped like a velvet hood
Gold-lined with delicate lace.

For you know the goblins that come like musk
To tumble and romp in the flowers' laps,
When you see big fire-fly eyes in the dusk,
Hang there their goblin caps.


II

THE MORNING-GLORIES.

They bloom up the fresh, green trellis
In airy, vigorous ease,
And their fragrant, sensuous honey
Is best beloved of the bees.

Oh! the rose knows the dainty secret
How the morning-glory b...

Madison Julius Cawein

Love's Emblem

Go rose, my Chloe's bosom grace:
How happy should I prove,
Could I supply that envied place
With never-fading love.

Accept, dear maid, now Summer glows,
This pure, unsullied gem,
Love's emblem in a full-blown rose,
Just broken from the stem.

Accept it as a favourite flower
For thy soft breast to wear;
'Twill blossom there its transient hour,
A favourite of the fair.

Upon thy cheek its blossom glows,
As from a mirror clear,
Making thyself a living rose,
In blossom all the year.

It is a sweet and favourite flower
To grace a maiden's brow,
Emblem of love without its power--
A sweeter rose art thou.

The rose, like hues of insect wing,
May perish in an hour;
'T is but at best a fading thing,
But thou'...

John Clare