I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled That every Hyacinth the Garden wear — Omar Khayyam
I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled That every Hyacinth the Garden wear — Omar Khayyam
I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled That every Hyacinth the Garden wear — Omar Khayyam
I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled That every Hyacinth the Garden wear — Omar Khayyam
I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled That every Hyacinth the Garden wear — Omar Khayyam
I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled That every Hyacinth the Garden wear — Omar Khayyam
I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled That every Hyacinth the Garden wear — Omar Khayyam
I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled That every Hyacinth the Garden wear — Omar Khayyam
I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled That every Hyacinth the Garden wear — Omar Khayyam
I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled That every Hyacinth the Garden wear — Omar Khayyam
I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled That every Hyacinth the Garden wear — Omar Khayyam
I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled That every Hyacinth the Garden wear — Omar Khayyam
I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled That every Hyacinth the Garden wear — Omar Khayyam
I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled That every Hyacinth the Garden wear — Omar Khayyam
I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled That every Hyacinth the Garden wear — Omar Khayyam
I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled That every Hyacinth the Garden wear — Omar Khayyam
I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled That every Hyacinth the Garden wear — Omar Khayyam
I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled That every Hyacinth the Garden wear — Omar Khayyam
I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled That every Hyacinth the Garden wear — Omar Khayyam
I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled That every Hyacinth the Garden wear — Omar Khayyam
I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled That every Hyacinth the Garden wear — Omar Khayyam
I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled That every Hyacinth the Garden wear — Omar Khayyam
I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled That every Hyacinth the Garden wear — Omar Khayyam
I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled That every Hyacinth the Garden wear — Omar Khayyam
I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled That every Hyacinth the Garden wear — Omar Khayyam
I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled That every Hyacinth the Garden wear — Omar Khayyam
I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled That every Hyacinth the Garden wear — Omar Khayyam
I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled That every Hyacinth the Garden wear — Omar Khayyam
I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled That every Hyacinth the Garden wear — Omar Khayyam
I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled That every Hyacinth the Garden wear — Omar Khayyam
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I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled That every Hyacinth the Garden wears Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head.

— Omar Khayyam
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More “Flowers” Quotes

....breakups mean flowers. — Marsha Qualey, Just Like That
At first, he talked about the flowers in the garden behind his country house in Surrey. His voice still had its Midlands — Frederick Weisel, Teller
Agatha surveys the garden, its rows of crinkled spring cabbages and beanstalks entwining bowers of hawthorn and hazel. T — Sarah Bower, The Needle in the Blood
Suddenly Damask found herself staring down at the flowers through a dazzle of tears. The words sounded so innocent and s — Norah Lofts, Afternoon of an Autocrat
Endless love and voluptuous appetite pervaded this stifling nave in which settled the ardent sap of the tropics. Renée w — Émile Zola, La Curée
Passion is a rare flower that grows on the precipice of death. A few snatch it, and the rest are like an ox chewing its — Saunders Lewis, Blodeuwedd
The perfume of incense reminds us of the pervading influence of virtue, the lamp reminds us of light of knowledge and th — Anonymous
If you want a forgotten corner to be remembered, a featureless place to be loved, a shadowy emptiness to shine, put some — Mehmet Murat ildan
He swept the red cloak around Inej's shoulders in a rain of petals and blossoms as she continued to strap on her knives. — Leigh Bardugo, Crooked Kingdom
I didn't wave my daisy. I felt small, the way an ant must feel looking up at a field of wildflowers. I was nothing. I wa — Chelsea Sedoti, The Hundred Lies of Lizzie Lovett
Better a crust of black bread than a mountain of paper confections, Better a daisy in earth than a dahlia cut and gather — Arthur Hugh Clough, The Poems of Arthur Hugh Clough
She forced herself to stroll casually and appraise her plants. The wisteria was shedding its final leaves, the jasmine h — Kate Morton, The Forgotten Garden