Finer than any sand are dusts of gold that gleam, Vague starpoints, in the mystic iris of their eyes.
Charles Baudelaire, The Flowers of Evil and Paris Spleen: Poems

Here in this garden of nocturnal delight lunar shadows dance on dew covered grass while mystical creatures hop between the delicate stems of swaying Gladiolus
Edward McCall, A collaboration with Shadow of the past, Garden of nocturnal delight

This corner of the farmyard I like most:
As well as any bloom upon a flower
I like the dust on the nettles, never lost
Except to prove the sweetness of a shower.
Edward Thomas, Tall Nettles

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
William Wordsworth, Daffodils

Scarborough Fair, Beall and Finch

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