What are the classic verses praising peonies

The peony is hailed by people as the "Flower Fairy" and the "Flower Prime Minister," and is listed as one of the "Six Great Famous Flowers." It is also called the "May Flower God." Because it has served as the flower of love since ancient times, it is now honored as the representative flower of the Qixi Festival. Ancient poets praised peonies in verses such as, "The master is gone but the flower remains, better than the green pine guarding the cold of the year." Let us take a look together below!

"Moved by the Peony Flower, Sent to Monk Zhengyi"

Tang Dynasty · Bai Juyi

Today before the steps are red peonies, how many flowers are old and how many are new.

When they bloom, one cannot understand comparing forms and colors; only after they fall does one know they are like an illusory body.

How far is it from here to the gate of emptiness? I want to take the fallen flowers and ask the venerable monk.

"Sadly Moved by the Peonies Blooming Before the Hall of the Late Wang Wei, Right Chancellor"

Tang Dynasty · Qian Qi

The peonies bloom beyond the old railing; hiding tears in my spring robe, I come to look again.

The master is gone but the flower remains, better than the green pine guarding the cold of the year.

"Song of the Peony"

Tang Dynasty · Han Yu

In the elder's courtyard bloom fine flowers, and no common tree contends for spring splendor.

Green stems and red stamens are bestowed by Heaven's power; this grace does not belong to the Huangzhong household.

A warm sweetness and fresh fragrance arise, as if smiling without words and practicing the ways of a gentleman.

The frost knife cuts you, toiling the heavenly maiden; why do you bow your head and imitate peach and plum.

The spoiled and silly maidservant has no spiritual nature, yet rushes to pull up her spring robe and come here to join.

Wanting to brighten both cheeks with a glance of red, she polishes the bronze mirror all over by the green window.

A cup of spring wine sweet as syrup; no one knows the elder's joy in this.

Who is the singer drunk and fallen before the flowers? The Chu madcap youth Han Tuizhi.

"Playfully Inscribed on the Peonies Before the Steps"

Tang Dynasty · Liu Zongyuan

Common blooms wither with the season; the beautiful and splendid flourish on this morning.

Leaning red, drunk on heavy dew, graceful and modest, keeping the lingering spring.

Enjoying alone as the white day fades, the warm wind shakes them again and again.

At the night window, rich fragrance gathers; lying in seclusion, I know them as close companions.

I wish to make a gift like those of Zhen and Wei; endlessly, the man of the southern country.

"After Finishing Drafting the Edict, Encountering the Peonies Newly Blooming"

Tang Dynasty · Bai Juyi

Having finished drafting the purple-mud edict, I rise and chant a poem on the red peony.

After the word-head is sealed and sent off, it is the time when the flower buds split open.

Sitting facing the hooked curtain for a long while, walking to watch with slow steps.

Two or three clumps in full profusion, twelve leaves uneven.

Facing away from the sun, the chambers slightly close; facing the steps, the blossoms soon lean.

Hairpin-like stalks push out green stems, powdered stamens brush yellow threads.

Swaying with boundless feeling, leaning low, strength cannot support them.

Looking around and around, still not enough; comparing and explaining, words are hard to manage.

Like cinnabar in the Goulou caves, like the flame banner of the dwarf people.

Crimson clouds leave only root and stem, red headbands lack their tassels.

Moreover there is the clear wind's bearing, and still night dew hangs down.

One suspects fragrance perfumes a painted screen, like tears laid upon rouge.

With intent they linger for me; speechless, whom do they resent in thought?

They must grieve that tomorrow they will fall, as if hating a year's separation.

The lotus joins its calyx with mud, the rose winds its thorns around the branch.

Weighed equally, none is superior; only the eye and the heart know.

"Peony"

Tang Dynasty · Zhang Bi

Fragrance clear and powder pale, resenting the lingering spring; butterfly wings and bee whiskers linger on the pollen dust.

Idly leaning in the evening wind, born melancholy gazing; quietly staying through the slow day, learning to drift along.

Do not make the climbing fig into a green gate; better to be close neighbors with the rose.

If scattered and fallen, let them follow the evening rain; then again they should grieve to death those who part.

"Qingping Yue: Zhang Xiushi's Peony Ci"

Yuan Dynasty · Liu Minzhong

The tree peony flowers have fallen. In dreams the east wind is cruel.

I hear it said your house has red peonies. They make one forget all spring sorrow.

Across the wall a hundred paces away comes fragrance. Several clumps have fully opened for me.

I would risk lying in the pile of colored clouds, and when drunk lie together on the green moss.

"Matching the Rhymes of Xu Zida's Poem on Peonies and Tree Peonies at Li Chancellor's Residence"

Song Dynasty · Hong Yan

The mountain lily's lovely nature crowns the years, and with lingering beauty it closes the ranks of a hundred flowers.

See how the three springs pass like shifting shadows; plucking one for a smile is this life.

Silk and gauze do not envy the city-toppling color; bees and butterflies can hardly peep into the chancellor's house.

Ten years in the capital with dim and sickly eyes; pitiful that wind and rain scatter the morning clouds.

"Red Peony"

Tang Dynasty · Yuan Zhen

The peony bursts into red silk, the Ba fence woven into green lattice.

Dense threads gather golden stamens, high flames face the stove fire.

Cut and carved like crimson cloud pieces, opened and spread wrapped in red mist.

Light smoke on glass-like leaves, wind presses the coral blossoms.

Receiving dew, their color is low and dim; toward people, charming and graceful.

With flushed faces weeping after drunkenness, like a little girl sitting fully adorned.

So vivid that brocade cannot compare; so tender that peach blossoms cannot match.

The clear clouds fear they will scatter; the evening sun grieves that they will fall.

For whom were they planted and grown? The joy of appreciation is expected in me.

Picking them surely brings much longing; how can a secret gift ever come true?

"Five Poems of a Spring Day"

Song Dynasty · Qin Guan

One evening a light thunder drops ten thousand threads; after clearing, light floats on the tiles in uneven green.

The feeling peony holds spring tears; the powerless rose lies on the morning branch.