Language of Flowers

As a lover of history, culture, music and the arts, I find it tragic when old knowledge is forgotten.  Connectedness and remembrance (which is ironic since I have the memory depth of a goldfish) are integral pieces to my web of reality, so when a word or name meaning is lost or unknown, I am sad.  I'm the kid who gets a kick out of reading the etymology and origin of phrases encyclopedia in the reference section of Berntsen Library.  I do not mean that I only value tradition or old things, I just want to know why people found them valuable or useful in the first place.  Where did it come from? Why? They must have had some reason, that word must have come from somewhere - and I want to know the story...maybe I should switch to journalism.  End rabbit trail. 

In old movies or books (and even in the this year's Valentine's Day flick "Valentine's Day" - that was creative) there are references to the meaning of flowers.  Flowers have meanings? Well, obviously, the basics are easy - roses, duh - bleeding hearts, I never know when those are appropriate - poinsettas, Christmas and I don't think they're technically flowers.  So when I stumbled across this, I was intrigued.

Alyssum (sweet): Worth beyond beauty
Abor Vitae: True Friendship
Yellow Carnation: Disdain and Rejection
Daisy: Gentleness, Innocence, Loyal love
Lilac, (light purple): "Do You Still Love Me?"
Lily-Of-The-Valley: Purity and Humility, Sweetness
Pink & White Rose: I love you still and always will
Pink Rose: Love, Grace, Gentility, You're so Lovely, Perfect Happiness, Please believe me
Red Rose: Love, Desire, Respect, Courage, Job well done
Sunflower: Homage and Devotion
Tulip: Symbol of The Perfect Lover
Red Tulip: Believe me, Declaration of love
Viscaria: Will you dance with me?
Yarrow: Healing
Zinnia: Thoughts of Absent Friends
Pink Zinnia: Lasting Affection

So take this picture, which I found on Down and Out Chic, and enjoy it - maybe you'll find it useful someday.

I watched a rosebud by Christina Rossetti

I watched a rosebud very long
Brought on by dew and sun and shower,
Waiting to see the perfect flower:
Then, when I thought it should be strong,
It opened at the matin hour
And fell at evensong.

I watched a nest from day to day,
A green nest full of pleasant shade,
Wherein three speckled eggs were laid:
But when they should have hatched in May,
The two old birds had grown afraid
Or tired, and flew away.

Then in my wrath I broke the bough
That I had tended so with care,
Hoping its scent should fill the air;
I crushed the eggs, not heeding how
Their ancient promise had been fair:
I would have vengeance now.

But the dead branch spoke from the sod,
And the eggs answered me again:
Because we failed dost thou complain?
Is thy wrath just? And what if God,
Who waiteth for thy fruits in vain,
Should also take the rod?