FLOWERS 



Bright and glorious is that revelation, 

 Written all over this great world of ours, 



Making evident our own creation 

 In these stars of earth, these golden flowers. 



And the Poet, faithful and far-seeing, 

 Sees, alike in stars and flowers, a part 



Of the self-same, universal being 

 Which is throbbing in his brain and heart. 



Gorgeous flowerets in the sunlight shining, 

 Blossoms flaunting in the eye of day, 



Tremulous leaves with soft and silver lining, 

 Buds that open only to decay, 



Brilliant hopes all woven in gorgeous tissues, 

 Flaunting gayly in the golden light; 



Large desires, with most uncertain issues, 

 Tender wishes, blossoming at night. 



Those in flowers and men are more than seeming; 



Workings are they of the self-same powers 

 Which the Poet, in no idle dreaming, 



Seeth in himself and in the flowers. 



Everywhere about us are they glowing 

 Some like stars, to tell us Spring is born; 



Others, their blue eyes with tears overflowing, 

 Stand like Ruth amid the golden corn. 



