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FURTHER READING
Poems by Gwendolyn Bennett
Fantasy
Quatrains
Sonnet 1
Poems about Flowers
A Red, Red Rose
by Robert Burns
a woman had placed
by Anne Blonstein
Advice to a Prophet
by Richard Wilbur
Astigmatism
by Amy Lowell
At Baia
by H. D.
Blur
by Andrew Hudgins
Botanica
by Eve Alexandra
Come Slowly—Eden (211)
by Emily Dickinson
Epitaph X
by Thomas Heise
Erotic Energy
by Chase Twichell
February: Thinking of Flowers
by Jane Kenyon
Four Poems for Robin
by Gary Snyder
from "Asphodel, That Greeny Flower"
by William Carlos Williams
From "Far and Away"
by Fanny Howe
From Endymion
by John Keats
From Littlefoot
by Charles Wright
Girl
by Eve Alexandra
Heaven for Helen
by Mark Doty
Herb Garden
by Timothy Steele
In April
by James Hearst
Iris
by David St. John
La Belle Dame Sans Merci
by John Keats
La Chalupa, the Boat
by Jean Valentine
Last Supper
by Charles Wright
Little Lion Face
by May Swenson
Nothing But Death
by Pablo Neruda
Nothing Stays Put
by Amy Clampitt
Nothing to Save
by D. H. Lawrence
One Flower
by Jack Kerouac
Practice
by Ellen Bryant Voigt
Taken Up
by Charles Martin
The Daffodils
by William Wordsworth
The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
by Dylan Thomas
The Mountain Cemetery
by Edgar Bowers
The Orchid Flower
by Sam Hamill
The Picture of Little T. C. in a Prospect of Flowers
by Andrew Marvell
The Satyr's Heart
by Brigit Pegeen Kelly
The Separate Rose: I
by Pablo Neruda
The White Rose
by John Boyle O'Reilly
To Earthward
by Robert Frost
To My Mother Waiting on 10/01/54
by Teresa Carson
Why Regret?
by Galway Kinnell
Wildflower
by Stanley Plumly
Wildwood Flower
by Kathryn Stripling Byer
Without a Philosophy
by Elizabeth Morgan
Related Prose
Double-Bind: Three Women of the Harlem Renaissance
by Anthony Walton
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Sonnet 2  
by Gwendolyn Bennett

Some things are very dear to me—
Such things as flowers bathed by rain
Or patterns traced upon the sea
Or crocuses where snow has lain ...
the iridescence of a gem,
The moon’s cool opalescent light,
Azaleas and the scent of them,
And honeysuckles in the night.
And many sounds are also dear—
Like winds that sing among the trees
Or crickets calling from the weir
Or Negroes humming melodies.
But dearer far than all surmise
Are sudden tear-drops in your eyes.
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