The place is all a wave with trees, Limes, myrtles, purple-beaded, Acacias having drunk the lees Of the night-dew, fain headed, And wan, grey olive-woods, which seem The fittest foliage for a dream. -
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Pluck the acacia's golden balls, And mark where the red pomegranate falls. -
Julia Caroline (Ripley) Dorr
Light-leaved acacias, by the door, Stood up in balmy air, Clusters of blossomed moonlight bore, And breathed a perfume rare. (Song of the Spring Nights) -
George MacDonald
Our rocks are rough, but smiling there Th' acacia waves her yellow hair, Lonely and sweet, nor loved the less For flow'ring in a wilderness. (Lalla Rookh--Light of the Harem) -
Thomas Moore
A great acacia, with its slender trunk And overpoise of multitudinous leaves. (In which a hundred fields might spill their dew And intense verdure, yet find room enough) Stood reconciling all the place with green. (Aurora Leigh) -
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Pride is like the beautiful acacia, that lifts its head proudly above its neighbor plants - forgetting that it too, like them, has its roots in the dirt. -
Christian Nestell Bovee
The slender acacia would not shake One long milk-bloom on the tree; The white lake-blossom fell into the lake As the pimpernel dozed on the lea; But the rose was awake all night for your sake, Knowing your promise to me; The lilies and roses were all awake, They sighed for the dawn and thee. (Maud) -
Lord Alfred Tennyson
