I would I had some flowers o' the
spring that might|
Become your time o' day; daffodils,
That come before the swallow dares;
Violets dim, But sweeter than the lids of
June's eyes, Or Gytherea's breath.
NOW from their chrysalis trance our bulb-loves peer|
From brumal bound unprisoned to assume
The hues that speak their forms' penumbra near -
Nigh crystalled prime of this new flower-lit year
Whose tints the prisms of the spring illume.
Here Tulip-cups cheer Flora's advent hours,
Sad Hyacinths bear Apollo's symbolled plaint,
Self-plumed Narcissi vaunt florescent powers -
Join Daffodils, Jonquils - all akin in flowers -
While vernal fingers fresh their petals paint.
Lone Colchicums their plighted leafage show
As earnest of the bloom in autumn shed -
But lily vestals, reflex of the 'parted snow,
Prescient reveal their Resurrection glow -
A halo gleaming round each aureoled head.
Thus souls resurgent in supernal guise,
As bulbs, to life of loftier being cling;
From earth-clad germ to sun-rayed growth arise -
Gazing relumed, intent upon the skies -
Unfading flower in sempiternal Spring!
|TO LAWRENCE BARRETT||CONTENTS||A PRECOCIOUS HYACINTH|