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:
    The flush and fire of labor
    That builds, not all in vain. . . .

    The genius of the lotos
    Shall heal earth's too-much fret.
    The rose, in blinding glory,
    Shall waken Asia yet.
    Hail to their loves, ye peoples!
    Behold, a world-wind blows,
    That aids the ivory lotos
    To wed the red red rose!

Vachel Lindsay

Vachel Lindsay was an American poet known for his innovative performances of his poetry, which combined spoken word with music and theatrics. Born in Springfield, Illinois, Lindsay's work often revolved around American history and culture, reflecting his progressive social views. He played a significant role in the early 20th-century American poetry scene, influencing contemporaries and later poets with his dynamic style and passionate delivery.

Vachel Lindsay

Queen Mab in the Village

Vachel Lindsay, Simple Poetry

He Climbs the Hill Where the Tree Grows

Vachel Lindsay, Simple Poetry

King Arthur's Men Have Come Again

Vachel Lindsay, Simple Poetry

On the Building of Springfield

Vachel Lindsay, Simple Poetry

English

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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

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

Two Roses.

I've a friend beyond the ocean
    So regardful, so sincere,
And he sends me in a letter
    Such a pretty souvenir.

It is crushed to death and withered,
    Out of shape and very flat,
But its pure, delicious odor
    Is the richer for all that.

'Tis a rose from Honolulu,
    And it bears the tropic brand,
Sandwiched in this friendly missive
    From that far-off flower-land.

It shall mingle pot-à-pourri
    With the scents I love and keep;
Some of them so very precious
    That remembrance makes me weep.

While I dream I hear the music
    That of happiness foretells,
Like the flourishing of trumpets
    And the sound of marriage bells.

There's a rose upon the prairie,
    Chosen his by happy fate,...

Hattie Howard

With a Bouquet of Twelve Roses

    I saw Lord Buddha towering by my gate
    Saying:    "Once more, good youth, I stand and wait."
    Saying:    "I bring you my fair Law of Peace
    And from your withering passion full release;
    Release from that white hand that stabbed you so.
    The road is calling.    With the wind you go,
    Forgetting her imperious disdain -
    Quenching all memory in the sun and rain."

    "Excellent Lord, I come.    But first," I said,
    "Grant that I bring her these twelve roses red.
    Yea, twelve flower kisses for her rose-leaf mouth,
    And then indeed I go in bitter drouth
    To that far valley where your river flows
    In Peace, that once I found in every rose."

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

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