“…they pick flowers, but they do not sweep the sky!”
“Snow sweeping downward, While the flowers reach upward--Winter storm in spring.”
“But how could anyone who's ever seen a summer - big explosion of green and skies lit up electric with splashy sunsets, a riot of flowers and wind that smells like honey - pick the snow?”
“My heart always timidly hides itself behind my mind. I set out to bring down stars from the sky, then, for fear of ridicule, I stop and pick little flowers of eloquence.”
“Pick the weeds and keep the flowers.”
“A power of Butterfly must be -The Aptitude to flyMeadows of Majesty concedesAnd easy Sweeps of Sky -”