The Camellia by Honore de Balzac

In Nature's poem flowers have each their word 
 
The rose of love and beauty sings alone;
 
The violet's soul exhales in tenderest tone;

The lily's one pure simple note heard.

The cold Camellia only, stiff and white,

Rose without perfume, lily without grace,

When chilling winter shows his icy face,

Blooms for a world that vainly seeks delight.

Yet, in a theatre, or ball-room light,

I gladly see Camellias shining bright 

Above some stately woman's raven hair,

Whose noble form fulfills the heart's desire,

Like Grecian marbles warmed by Phidian fire.