“Strange to say, a cult exists, slowly increasing in numbers, that considers single flowers - yes, even single roses - more lovely than the double ones, transformed by man from beautiful utility to useless beauty. For, with the multiplication of the velvety petals disappear the stamens and pistils which are the essentials for the formation of the seed - the purpose of the flower in nature. We may marvel at the skill of the florist in producing a cabbage-like double-dahlia and chrysanthemum; but we linger over and dearly love the single forms of these flowers...” Eloise Butler, from a writing of June 11, 1911.

A Seasonal Poem

And now, in the heat of June,
With her sudden life and light,
With the fullness of her noon,
With the silence of her night,
The rosebud loosens her outer dress
And blushes in fainting loveliness;
Nor opens her heart to the common air,
Nor shows you her inmost light,
But leaves you to dream what is hidden there
With the dews of the falling night

Taken from "The Rose" by
Dora Read Goodale, American (1866 - 1915)