Magnificent Flower Poetries That Will Make Your Day

Flower Poetries

Hello Desi Gardeners! Flowers are the most beautiful creations in nature. We get that nice but indescribable feeling we have when see the Mother Nature’s astounding creations. There are many amazing flower poetries that makes one feel the exquisiteness.

Here are some of the most wonderful poems on flowers and nature that will touch your heart.

Collection of flower poetries 

I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud By William Wordsworth

William Wordsworth was one of the greatest poets and this poem is one of the most well-known. Its beauty is in its simplicity – just like the flowers. It is undoubtedly one of the best flower poetries ever penned.

Daffodils grow wildly in fields and meadows, and have also been ignored as a wildflower. With the words of Wordsworth, we learn to see what treasure lie everywhere in nature!

Flower Poetries

I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud
William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

To Live in Magic By Ruskin Bond

Here is a short and profound one from everybody’s beloved writer, Ruskin Bond. The words are so full of wisdom.

Flower Poetries

To Live in Magic

Daddy said: “to be happy, be like a flower which attracts butterflies, bees, lady birds and gentle people.”
A flower doesn’t have to rush about in order to make friends. It remains quietly where it has grown and sweetens the air with its fragrance.
God gave this power to flowers and gentle people.

I Know That the Flower By Rabindranath Tagore

Rabindranath Tagore changed a whole generation of people with the power of his pen. His poems speak of the deepest corners of our heart, bold enough to speak of facets that we usually want to overlook.
This short poem entices many layers and it is the reader’s maturity that gives it the meaning to him.

Flower Poetries

I Know That the flower one day shall blossom crowning my thorns.

I know that the flower one day shall blossom crowning my thorns.
I know my sorrow shall spread its red rose-leaves opening its
heart to the sun.
The breeze of the south for which the sky kept watch for weary
days and nights shall suddenly make my heart quiver.
My love shall bloom in a moment; my shame shall be no more when
the flower is ripe for offering.
And with the end of the night, at the touch of my friend it will
drop at his feet and spend its last petal in joy.

The Flower By George Herbert

Mother Nature can conquer it all – darkness, sadness, grief and turn it all to joy and life. Poet George Herbert reminds us of the wonder of nature’s great power.

Flower Poetries

The Flower

How fresh, oh Lord, how sweet and clean
Are thy returns! even as the flowers in spring;
To which, besides their own demean,
The late-past frosts tributes of pleasure bring.
Grief melts away
Like snow in May,
As if there were no such cold thing.
Who would have thought my shriveled heart
Could have recovered greenness? It was gone
Quite underground; as flowers depart
To see their mother-root, when they have blown,
Where they together
All the hard weather,
Dead to the world, keep house unknown.
These are thy wonders, Lord of power,
Killing and quickening, bringing down to hell
And up to heaven in an hour;
Making a chiming of a passing-bell.
We say amiss
This or that is:
Thy word is all, if we could spell.
Oh that I once past changing were,
Fast in thy Paradise, where no flower can wither!
Many a spring I shoot up fair,
Offering at heaven, growing and groaning thither;
Nor doth my flower
Want a spring shower,
My sins and I joining together.
But while I grow in a straight line,
Still upwards bent, as if heaven were mine own,
Thy anger comes, and I decline:
What frost to that? what pole is not the zone
Where all things burn,
When thou dost turn,
And the least frown of thine is shown?

And now in age I bud again,
After so many deaths I live and write;
I once more smell the dew and rain,
And relish versing. Oh, my only light,
It cannot be
That I am he
On whom thy tempests fell all night.
These are thy wonders, Lord of love,
To make us see we are but flowers that glide;
Which when we once can find and prove,
Thou hast a garden for us where to bide;
Who would be more,
Swelling through store,
Forfeit their Paradise by their pride.

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Our Casuarina Tree By Toru Dutt

Toru Dutt was a great poetess from Kolkata who wrote many unforgettable pieces in English and French. She left the world at the tender age of 21, leaving behind a great legacy even in this short lifetime.

Her poetry and novels are considered some of the finest in literature.

Flower Poetries

Our Casuarina Tree

Like a huge Python, winding round and round
The rugged trunk, indented deep with scars,
Up to its very summit near the stars,
A creeper climbs, in whose embraces bound
No other tree could live. But gallantly
The giant wears the scarf, and flowers are hung
In crimson clusters all the boughs among,
Whereon all day are gathered bird and bee;
And oft at nights the garden overflows
With one sweet song that seems to have no close,
Sung darkling from our tree, while men repose.
When first my casement is wide open thrown
At dawn, my eyes delighted on it rest;
Sometimes, and most in winter,—on its crest
A gray baboon sits statue-like alone
Watching the sunrise; while on lower boughs
His puny offspring leap about and play;
And far and near kokilas hail the day;
And to their pastures wend our sleepy cows;
And in the shadow, on the broad tank cast
By that hoar tree, so beautiful and vast,
The water-lilies spring, like snow enmassed.
But not because of its magnificence

Dear is the Casuarina to my soul:
Beneath it we have played; though years may roll,
O sweet companions, loved with love intense,
For your sakes, shall the tree be ever dear.
Blent with your images, it shall arise
In memory, till the hot tears blind mine eyes!
What is that dirge-like murmur that I hear
Like the sea breaking on a shingle-beach?
It is the tree’s lament, an eerie speech,
That haply to the unknown land may reach.
Unknown, yet well-known to the eye of faith!
Ah, I have heard that wail far, far away
In distant lands, by many a sheltered bay,
When slumbered in his cave the water-wraith
And the waves gently kissed the classic shore
Of France or Italy, beneath the moon,
When earth lay trancèd in a dreamless swoon:
And every time the music rose,—before
Mine inner vision rose a form sublime,
Thy form, O Tree, as in my happy prime
I saw thee, in my own loved native clime.
Therefore I fain would consecrate a lay
Unto thy honor, Tree, beloved of those
Who now in blessed sleep for aye repose,—
Dearer than life to me, alas, were they!

 Mayst thou be numbered when my days are done
With deathless trees—like those in Borrowdale,
Under whose awful branches lingered pale
“Fear, trembling Hope, and Death, the skeleton,
And Time the shadow;” and though weak the verse
That would thy beauty fain, oh, fain rehearse,
May Love defend thee from Oblivion’s curse.

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You Are so Like a Flower By Christy Ann Martine

A beautiful piece of poetry can be the most amazing prayer. Read it for yourself.

You Are so Like a Flower

You are so like a flower,
So fair and pure and fine;
I gaze on you, and sadness
Steals through the heart of mine.
It is, as though I should gently
Lay hands upon your hair,
Praying to God, that He keep you
So fine and pure and fair.


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Like A Flower in The Desert By Heinrich Heine

This poem was written in 1823 by Heinrich Heine. It was originally in German and this is the translated version.
The poem strikes deep into our very hearts. The spirit of a flower in the desert reflects the spirit of man and his constant struggle between his inner goodness and the bad, bad world.

Like A Flower in The Desert

I had to grow in the cruelest weather,
holding on to every drop of rain
just to stay alive.
But it’s not enough to survive,
I want to bloom beneath the blazing sun,
and show you all of the colors
that live inside of me.
I want you to see what I can become.


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Flowers By Albert Laighton

Albert Laighton is one of those great poets that remind us to follow our dreams. A banker by profession in the 19th century United States, Laighton’s true calling was for writing.
His poems remind us to be one with our true self and listen to the murmurings of the heart. The poem Flowers speaks volumes in its few lines.


They are autographs of angels, penned
In Nature’s green-leaved book, in blended tints,
Borrowed from rainbows and the sunset skies,
And written everywhere–on plain and hill,
In lonely dells, ‘mid crowded haunts of men;
On the broad prairies, where no eye save God’s
May read their silent, sacred mysteries. Thank God for flowers!
They gladden human hearts; Seraphic breathings part their fragrant lips
With whisperings of Heaven.


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