Some themes are popular throughout literary forms. Love, for example, is pressed into service across the board: novels, poetry, plays, song lyrics, film scripts. I would guess that when sermons were an important literary form that love was a popular subject there too. From the poems of Sappho, through Romeo and Juliet, right through to Ordinary People, love will find a way whatever type of literature we look at.
Flowers aren’t like that. In fact, as themes go, they blossom at quite the other end of the spectrum. There are almost no novels, or plays about flowers. Oh, they might put in a fleeting appearance at the end of Chapter Seven. Kiera Knightly might cut some roses, briefly, in a Pride and Prejudice adaptation, but these scenes aren’t about flowers. There is a well received book called The Language of Flowers (Vanessa Diffenbaugh 2011) about a florist, but flower books, films, plays and (I am guessing again) sermons, are very thin on the ground.
Poems about flowers, on the other hand, are absolutely legion. Many of our old friends at writers have penned flower poems: Robert Frost, Blake, Dylan Thomas; Emily Dickinson predictably wrote lots. Wordsworth is famous for his daffodils and Coleridge penned a flower poem or two too.
But I wanted to look at someone we have not featured before: Wendy Cope