They are not ours, The fleeting flowers, But lights of God That through the sod Flash upwards from the world beneath -- That region peopled wide with death -- And tell us, in each subtle hue, That life renewed is passing through Our world again to seek the skies, Its native realm of Paradise. How brief their day! They cannot stay; Our mother earth Beholds their birth And spreads her ample bosom deep Some relic of their stay to keep, And each in benediction flings A virtue from its dainty wings; But lo! she treasure it in vain; It blooms and vanishes again. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HEROD'S LAMENT FOR MARIAMNE by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THE DOLLS by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE LEAF by ANTOINE VINCENT ARNAULT THE WATCHERS ON THE ROAD by MAXWELL STRUTHERS BURT THE THANKSGIVING FOR AMERICA by HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH |