Thomas Bailey Aldrich - Three Flowers lyrics

Herewith I send you three pressed withered flowers: This one was white, with golden star; this, blue As Capri's wave; that, purple and shot through With sunset-orange. Where the Duomo towers In diamond air, and under hanging bowers The Arno glides, this faded violet grew On Landors grave; from Landor's heart it drew Its magic azure in the long spring hours. Within the shadow of the Pyrimid Of Caius Cestius was the daisy found, White as the soul of Keats in Paradise. The pansy,—there were hundreds of them, hid In the thick gra** that folded Shelley's mound, Guarding his ashes with most lovely eyes.