The solitary flower, the last of all,
That lingers on the stem when leaves are dead,
And bows its gentle, uncomplaining head
Beneath the chill blast of the funeral pall.
Hartley Coleridge
The later flowers were gorgeous in their many-coloured splendour, though their earlier sisters had already lived the best of their lives, and now drooped their heads, as if to hide their blighted charms.
J. Palgrave Simpson
