Isabel by Keats (Frag.): ... And she forgot the stars, the moon, and sun, And she forgot the blue above the trees, And she forgot the dells where waters run, And she forgot the chilly autumn breeze; She had no know knowledge when the day was done, And the new morn she saw not: but in peace Hung over her sweet Basil evermore, And moisten'd it with tears unto the core And so she ever fed it with thin tears, Whence thick, and green, and beautiful it grew, So that it smelt more balmy than its peers Of Basil-tufts in Florence; for it drew Nurture besides, and life, from human fears, From the fast mouldering head there shut from view; So that the jewel, safely casketed, Came forth, and in perfumed leafits spread ...
Isabella and the Pot of Basil: William Holman Hunt (1827-1910), 1867
Heart Of The Rose: Sir Edward Burne-Jones (1833-1898). Oil on canvas, 1874