- Published on
Neighbor Chicory
Where the stamping horses pass
And the dust is in the grass,
By the roadside bare and hot
Gracing each unlovely spot
Lo! before our weary eyes
Shines the blue of summer skies
Gleaming like an azure star
Where the fiercest sunbeams are,
Neighbor Chicory bestows
Such a sense of cool repose,
In the noon-tide’s hottest glare
It is always evening there.
Oh, to learn the conquering grace
Of that blossom’s tender face!
Thus victoriously may I
Where the choking dust-clouds fly
And life’s clamors never cease
Bring the cooling sense of peace.
By Author Unknown
Where the stamping horses pass
And the dust is in the grass,
By the roadside bare and hot
Gracing each unlovely spot
Lo! before our weary eyes
Shines the blue of summer skies
Gleaming like an azure star
Where the fiercest sunbeams are,
Neighbor Chicory bestows
Such a sense of cool repose,
In the noon-tide’s hottest glare
It is always evening there.
Oh, to learn the conquering grace
Of that blossom’s tender face!
Thus victoriously may I
Where the choking dust-clouds fly
And life’s clamors never cease
Bring the cooling sense of peace.
By Author Unknown
- Published on
The Parable Of The Rose
A certain man planted a rose and watered it faithfully. Before it blossomed, he examined it. He saw a bud that would soon blossom. He also saw the thorns, and he thought, “How can any beautiful flower come from a plant, burdened with so many sharp thorns?” Saddened by this thought, he neglected to water the rose, and before it was ready to bloom, it wilted. So it is with many people. Within every soul, there is a rose. The good qualities planted in us at birth, growing amidst the thorns of our faults. Many of us look at ourselves and see only the thorns, the defects. We despair, thinking nothing good can possibly come from us. We neglect to water the good within us, and eventually it wilts. We never realize our potential. Some don’t see the rose within themselves. It takes someone else to show it to them. One of the greatest gifts a person can possess is to be able to reach past the thorns and find the rose within others. This is the truest, most innocent, and gracious characteristic of love - to know another person, including their faults, recognize the nobility in their soul, and yet, still help another to realize they can overcome their faults. If we show them the rose, they will conquer the thorns. Only then will they blossom many times over, Our duty in this world is to help others, by showing them their roses and not their thorns. It is then that we achieve the love we should feel for each other. Only then can we bloom in our own garden.
By Author Unknown
A certain man planted a rose and watered it faithfully. Before it blossomed, he examined it. He saw a bud that would soon blossom. He also saw the thorns, and he thought, “How can any beautiful flower come from a plant, burdened with so many sharp thorns?” Saddened by this thought, he neglected to water the rose, and before it was ready to bloom, it wilted. So it is with many people. Within every soul, there is a rose. The good qualities planted in us at birth, growing amidst the thorns of our faults. Many of us look at ourselves and see only the thorns, the defects. We despair, thinking nothing good can possibly come from us. We neglect to water the good within us, and eventually it wilts. We never realize our potential. Some don’t see the rose within themselves. It takes someone else to show it to them. One of the greatest gifts a person can possess is to be able to reach past the thorns and find the rose within others. This is the truest, most innocent, and gracious characteristic of love - to know another person, including their faults, recognize the nobility in their soul, and yet, still help another to realize they can overcome their faults. If we show them the rose, they will conquer the thorns. Only then will they blossom many times over, Our duty in this world is to help others, by showing them their roses and not their thorns. It is then that we achieve the love we should feel for each other. Only then can we bloom in our own garden.
By Author Unknown
- Published on
Buttercups And Daisies
Buttercups and daisies -
Oh the pretty flowers,
Coming ere the springtime
To tell of sunny hours.
While the trees are leafless,
While the fields are bare,
Buttercups and daisies
Spring up here and there.
Ere the snowdrop peepeth,
Ere the croscus bold,
Ere the early primrose
Opes its paly gold,
Somewhere on a sunny bank
Buttercups are bright;
Somewhere ’mong the frozen grass
Peeps the daisy white.
Little hardy flowers
Like to children poor,
Playing in their sturdy health
By their mother’s door:
Purple with the north wind,
Yet alert and bold;
Fearing not and caring not,
Though they be a-cold.
What to them is weather!
What are stormy showers!
Buttercups and daisies
Are these human flowers!
He who gave them hardship
And a life of care,
Gave them likewise hardy strength,
And patient hearts, to bear.
Welcome yellow buttercups,
Welcome daisies white,
Ye are in my spirit
Visioned, a delight!
Coming ere the springtime
Of sunny hours to tell -
Speaking to our hearts of Him
Who doeth all things well.
By Mary Howitt
Mary Howitt was born as Mary Botham on 12 March 1799 in Coleford, Gloucestershire, England. She was a member of the Quaker denomination of Christianity. She was married to William Howitt on 16 April 1821. Mary Howitt became a writer and a poet, and translated works by Hans Christian Andersen and Frederika Bremer into English. She is known as the author of the poem, “The Spider and the Fly” (1829). Mary Howitt passed on at 88 years of age on 30 January 1888 in Rome, Italy.
Buttercups and daisies -
Oh the pretty flowers,
Coming ere the springtime
To tell of sunny hours.
While the trees are leafless,
While the fields are bare,
Buttercups and daisies
Spring up here and there.
Ere the snowdrop peepeth,
Ere the croscus bold,
Ere the early primrose
Opes its paly gold,
Somewhere on a sunny bank
Buttercups are bright;
Somewhere ’mong the frozen grass
Peeps the daisy white.
Little hardy flowers
Like to children poor,
Playing in their sturdy health
By their mother’s door:
Purple with the north wind,
Yet alert and bold;
Fearing not and caring not,
Though they be a-cold.
What to them is weather!
What are stormy showers!
Buttercups and daisies
Are these human flowers!
He who gave them hardship
And a life of care,
Gave them likewise hardy strength,
And patient hearts, to bear.
Welcome yellow buttercups,
Welcome daisies white,
Ye are in my spirit
Visioned, a delight!
Coming ere the springtime
Of sunny hours to tell -
Speaking to our hearts of Him
Who doeth all things well.
By Mary Howitt
Mary Howitt was born as Mary Botham on 12 March 1799 in Coleford, Gloucestershire, England. She was a member of the Quaker denomination of Christianity. She was married to William Howitt on 16 April 1821. Mary Howitt became a writer and a poet, and translated works by Hans Christian Andersen and Frederika Bremer into English. She is known as the author of the poem, “The Spider and the Fly” (1829). Mary Howitt passed on at 88 years of age on 30 January 1888 in Rome, Italy.
- Published on
The Seed
In the heart of a seed
Buried deed, so deep,
A dear little plant
Lay fast asleep.
“Wake!” said the sunshine,
“And creep to the light!”
“Wake!” said the voice
Of the raindrop bright.
The little plant heard
And it rose to see
What the wonderful
Outside world might be.
By Author Unknown
In the heart of a seed
Buried deed, so deep,
A dear little plant
Lay fast asleep.
“Wake!” said the sunshine,
“And creep to the light!”
“Wake!” said the voice
Of the raindrop bright.
The little plant heard
And it rose to see
What the wonderful
Outside world might be.
By Author Unknown
- Published on
You may have reached the end of the Plants Page here on www.MakeFunOfLife.net, but you have just begun to explore and experience all of the excellence that can be found on the website. To find more, go to the drop-down menu near the top of this page and click on any of the pages shown there, such as the Inspiration Pages and the Library Pages.
We are MFOL! . . . bringing together the best of that which is worth knowing in humor, inspiration, and learning . . .
We are MFOL! . . . bringing together the best of that which is worth knowing in humor, inspiration, and learning . . .
