Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE BIRTH OF THE FLOWERS; A VISION, by DAVID MACBETH MOIR


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE BIRTH OF THE FLOWERS; A VISION, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Once on a time, when all was still
Last Line: To listen—to the watchman bawling!
Alternate Author Name(s): Delta
Subject(s): Flowers; Gardens & Gardening; Passion; Perfume; Poetry & Poets; Spring


I.

ONCE on a time, when all was still,
When midnight mantled vale and hill,
And over earth the stars were keeping
Their lustrous watch, it has been said,
A Poet on his couch lay sleeping,
As pass'd a vision through his head:
It may be rash—it can't be wrong
To pencil what he saw in song;
And if we go not far amiss,
'Twas this—or something like to this.

II.

Firstly, through parting mists, his eye
The snowy mountain-peaks explored,
Where, in the dizzying gulfs of sky,
The daring eagle wheel'd and soar'd;
And, as subsiding lower, they
Own'd the bright empire of the day,
Softly array'd in living green,
The summits of the hills were seen,
On which the orient radiance play'd,
Girt with their garlands of broad trees,
Whose foliage twinkled in the breeze,
And form'd a lattice-work of shade:
And darker still, and deeper still,
As widen'd out each shelving hill,
Dispersing placidly they show'd
The destined plains for Man's abode—
Meadow, and mount, and champaign wide;
And sempiternal forests, where
Wild beasts and birds find food and lair;
And verdant copse by river side,
Which threading these—a silver line—
Was seen afar to wind and shine
Down to the mighty Sea that wound
Islands and continents around,
And, like a snake of monstrous birth,
In its grim folds encircled earth!

III.

Then wider as awoke the day,
Was seen a speck—a tiny wing
That, from the sward, drifting away,
Rose up at heaven's gate, to sing
A matin hymn melodious: Hark!
That orison!—it was the lark,
Hailing the advent of the sun,
Forth like a racer come to run
His fiery course; in brilliant day
The vapours vanishing away,
Had left to his long march a clear,
Cloud-unencumber'd atmosphere;
And glow'd, as on a map unfurl'd,
The panorama of the world.

IV.

Fair was the landscape—very fair—
Yet something still was wanting there;
Something, as 'twere, to lend the whole
Material world a type of soul.
The Dreamer wist not what might be
The thing a-lacking; but while he
Ponder'd in heart the matter over,
Floating between him and the ray
Of the now warm refulgent day,
What is it that his eyes discover?
As through the fields of air it flew,
Larger it loom'd, and fairer grew
That form of beauty and of grace,
Which bore of grosser worlds no trace,
Until, as Earth's green plains it near'd,
Confest, an Angel's self appeared.

V.

Eye could not gaze on shape so bright,
Which from its atmosphere of light,
And love, and beauty, shed around,
From every winnow of her wings,
Upon the fainting air, perfumes
Sweeter than Thought's imaginings;
And at each silent bend of grace,
The Dreamer's raptured eye could trace,
(Far richer than the peacock's plumes,)
A rainbow shadow on the ground,
As if from out Elysium's bowers,
From brightest gold to deepest blue,
Blossoms of every form and hue
Had fallen to earth in radiant showers.

VI.

Vainly would human words convey
Spiritual music, or portray
Seraphic loveliness—the grace
Flowing like glory from that face,—
Which, as 'twas said of Una's, made
Where'er the sinless virgin stray'd,
A sunshine in the shady place:
The snow-drop was her brow; the rose
Her cheek; her clear full gentle eye
The violet in its deepest dye;
The lily of the Nile her nose;
Before the crimson of her lips
Carnations waned in dim eclipse;
And downwards o'er her shoulders white,
As the white rose in fullest blow,
Her floating tresses took delight
To curl in hyacinthine flow:
Her vesture seem'd as from the blooms
Of all the circling seasons wove,
With magic warp in fairy looms,
And tissued with the woof of Love.

VII.

Transcendent joy!—a swoon of bliss!
Was ever rapture like to this?
Spell-bound as if in ecstasy,
The visionary's half-shut eye
Drank in those rich, celestial gleams,
Which dart from dreams involved in dreams;
When, as 'twere from a harp of Heaven,
Whose tones are to the breezes given,
While from the ocean zephyr sighs,
And twilight veils Creation's eyes,
In music thus a voice awoke,
And to his wilder'd senses spoke:—

VIII.

" 'Tis true man's earth is very fair,
A dwelling meet for Eden's heir"—
Flowing like honey from her tongue,
'Twas thus the syllables were sung—
"And true, that there is wanting there
A something yet: What can it be?
Is it not this?—look up, and see!"

IX.

First, heavenward, with refulgent smile,
She glanced, then earthward turn'd the while;
From out her lap, she scatter'd round
Its riches of all scents and hues—
Scarlets and saffrons, pinks and blues;
And sow'd with living gems the ground.
The rose to eastern plains she gave;
The lily to the western wave;
The violet to the south; and forth
The thistle to the hardy north:
Then, in triumphant ecstasy,
Glancing across wide earth her eye,
She flung abroad her arms in air,
And daisies sprang up everywhere.

X.

"And let these be"—than song of birds
Harmonious more, 'twas thus her words
Prolong'd their sweetness—"let these be
For symbols and for signs to Thee,
Forthcoming Man, for whom was made
This varied world of sun and shade:
Fair in its hills and valleys, fair
In groves, and glades, and forest bowers,
The Genii of the earth and air
Have lavish'd their best offerings there;
And mine I now have brought him—FLOWERS!
These, these are mine especial care;
And I have given them form and hue,
For ornament and emblem too:
Let them be symbols to the sense,
(For they are passionless and pure,
And sinless quite,) that innocence
Alone can happiness secure.
Nursed by the sunshine and the shower,
Buds grow to blossoms on the eye,
And having pass'd their destined hour,
Vanish away all painlessly—
For sorrowing days and sleepless nights
Are only Sin's dread perquisites—
As each returning spring fresh races,
Alike in beauty and in bloom,
Shall rise to occupy their places,
And shed on every breeze perfume.

XI.

"Then let them teach him—Faith. They grow,
But how and wherefore never know:—
The morning bathes them with its dew,
When fades in heaven its latest star;
The sunshine gives them lustre new,
And shows to noon each varied hue,
Than Fancy's dreams more beauteous far;
And night maternal muffles up
In her embrace each tender cup.
They toil not, neither do they spin,
And yet so exquisite their bloom,
Nor mimic Art, nor Tyrian loom
Shall e'er to their perfection win.
For million millions though they be,
And like to each, the searcher not
From out the whole one pair shall see
Identical in stripe and spot.

XII.

"To Spring these gifts," the Angel said,
"I give;"—and from her cestus she,
Forth to the Zephyrs liberally,
A sparkling handful scattered
Of seeds, like golden dust that fell
On mountain-side, and plain, and dell.
Hence sprang that earliest drop, whose hue
Is taintless as the new-fall'n snows;
The crocus, yellow-striped and blue;
The daffodil, and rathe primrose;
The colts-foot, with its leaflets white;
The cyclamen and aconite;
The violet's purpureal gem;
The golden star of Bethlehem;
Auriculus; narcissi bent,
As 'twere in worship o'er the stream;
Anemones, in languishment,
As just awakening from a dream;
And myriads not less sweet or bright,
Dusky as jet, or red as flames,
That glorify the day and night,
Unending, with a thousand names.

XIII.

"My vows are thus to Summer paid,"
She added, as she shower'd abroad,
O'er mount and mead, o'er glen and glade,
A sleet-like dust, which, o'er the ground
In countless atoms falling round,
Like rubies, pearls, and sapphires glow'd:
The pansy, and the fleur-de-lis,
Straightway arose in bloom; sweet pea,
The marigold of aureate hue,
The periwinkles white and blue,
The heliotrope afar to shine,
The cistus and the columbine,
The lily of the vale: and queen
Of all the bright red rose was seen
Matchless in majesty and mien.
Around were over-arching bowers,
Of lilac and laburnum, wove
With jasmine; and the undergrove
Glow'd bright with rhododendron flowers.

XIV.

"Nor shalt thou, Autumn"—thus her words
Found ending—"Nor shalt thou be left,
With thy blue skies and singing birds,
Of favours, all thine own, bereft;
The foxglove, with its stately bells
Of purple, shall adorn thy dells;
The wallflower, on each rifted rock,
From liberal blossoms shall breathe down,
(Gold blossoms frecked with iron-brown,)
Its fragrance; while the holly-hock,
The pink, and the carnation vie
With lupin, and with lavender,
To decorate the fading year;
And larkspurs, many-hued, shall drive
Gloom from the groves, where red leaves lie,
And Nature seems but half alive.

XV.

"No! never quite shall disappear
The glory of the circling year;—
Fade shall it never quite, if flowers
An emblem of existence be;
The golden rod shall flourish free,
And laurestini shall weave bowers
For Winter; while the Christmas rose
Shall blossom, though it be 'mid snows.

XVI.

"Meanings profounder, loftier lie
In all we see, in all we hear,
Than merely strike the common eye,
Than merely meet the careless ear;
And meekly Man must bend his knee
On Nature's temple-floor, if he
Would master her philosophy.—
It is not given alone to flowers
To brighten with their hue the hours;
But with a silence all sublime,
They chronicle the march of Time,
As month on month, in transience fast,
Commingles with the spectral past.
Some shall endure for seasons; they
Shall blossom on the breath of Spring;
Shall bourgeon gloriously the blue,
Refulgent, sunny Summer through;
And only shall the feebler ray
Of Autumn find them withering:
Others shall with the crescent Moon
Grow up in pride, to fade as soon:
Yea! not a few shall with the day
That saw them burst to bloom—decay;
Even like the babe, that opes its eye
To light, and seems but born to die.

XVII.

"By hieroglyphic hue and sign,
Flowers shall the heart and soul divine,
And all the feelings that engage
Man's restless thoughts from youth to age:
This blossom shall note infancy,
Lifting in earliest spring its eye
To dewy dawn, and drinking thence
The purity of innocence;
That—vigorous youth, which from the hue
Of summer skies, imbibes its blue,
And bursts abroad, as if to say
'Can lusty strength like mine decay?'
This—Life's autumnal date, which takes
A colouring from the breeze which shakes
The yellowing woods; and that—old age,
Which comes when Winter drifts the fields
With snow, and, prostrate to his rage
Tyrannical, bows down and yields.

XVIII.

"Yea! all the passions that impart
Their varied workings to the heart,
That stir to hate or calm to love,
That glory or debasement prove,
In flowers are imaged:—O! discern
In them recondite homilies; learn
The silent lessons which they teach;
For clearer vision shall explain,
Hereafter, what pertains to each,
And that nought made was made in vain!"

XIX.

As melts in music, far aloof,
Amid the chancel's galleried roof,
The organ's latest tone; as dies
The glorious rainbow, ray by ray,
Leaving no trace on the blue skies,
So sank that voice, that form away.

XX.

And what of the bewilder'd Poet,
On whom had fallen this flowery vision?
Cruel it seems, yet Truth must show it,—
He started from his dream Elysian;
But if 'twas at an Angel's calling,
Sure 'twas a fallen one; his eyes
And ears were shut from Paradise,
To listen—to the watchman bawling!





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