Flowers

5Stars they are, wherein we read our history,

6As astrologers and seers of eld;

7Yet not wrapped about with awful mystery,

8Like the burning stars, which they beheld.

9Wondrous truths, and manifold as wondrous,

10God hath written in those stars above;

11But not less in the bright flowerets under us

12Stands the revelation of his love.

13Bright and glorious is that revelation,

14Written all over this great world of ours;

15Making evident our own creation,

16In these stars of earth, these golden flowers.

17And the Poet, faithful and far-seeing,

18Sees, alike in stars and flowers, a part

19Of the self-same, universal being,

20Which is throbbing in his brain and heart.

21Gorgeous flowerets in the sunlight shining,

22Blossoms flaunting in the eye of day,

23Tremulous leaves, with soft and silver lining,

24Buds that open only to decay;

25Brilliant hopes, all woven in gorgeous tissues,

26Flaunting gayly in the golden light;

27Large desires, with most uncertain issues,

28Tender wishes, blossoming at night!

29These in flowers and men are more than seeming;

30Workings are they of the self-same powers,

31Which the Poet, in no idle dreaming,

32Seeth in himself and in the flowers.

33Everywhere about us are they glowing,

34Some like stars, to tell us Spring is born;

35Others, their blue eyes with tears o'er-flowing,

36Stand like Ruth amid the golden corn;

37Not alone in Spring's armorial bearing,

38And in Summer's green-emblazoned field,

39But in arms of brave old Autumn's wearing,

40In the centre of his brazen shield;

41Not alone in meadows and green alleys,

42On the mountain-top, and by the brink

43Of sequestered pools in woodland valleys,

44Where the slaves of nature stoop to drink;

45Not alone in her vast dome of glory,

46Not on graves of bird and beast alone,

47But in old cathedrals, high and hoary,

48On the tombs of heroes, carved in stone;

49In the cottage of the rudest peasant,

50In ancestral homes, whose crumbling towers,

51Speaking of the Past unto the Present,

52Tell us of the ancient Games of Flowers;

53In all places, then, and in all seasons,

54Flowers expand their light and soul-like wings,

55Teaching us, by most persuasive reasons,

56How akin they are to human things.

57And with childlike, credulous affection

58We behold their tender buds expand;

59Emblems of our own great resurrection,

60Emblems of the bright and better land.