The tulip’s petals shine in dew,
	All beautiful, but none alike.

Montgomery.    

	Dutch tulips from their beds
	Flaunted their stately heads.

Montgomery.    

	And tulips, children love to stretch
	Their fingers down, to feel in each
	Its beauty’s secret nearer.

E. B. Browning.    

	’Mid the sharp, short emerald wheat, scarce risen three fingers well,
	The wild tulip at end of its tube, blows out its great red bell,
	Like a thin clear bubble of blood, for the children to pick and sell.

Robert Browning.    

	Bring the tulip and the rose,
	While their brilliant beauty glows.

Eliza Cook.    

	Like tulip-beds of different shape and dyes,
	Bending beneath the invisible west-wind’s sighs.

Moore.