Classic and Contemporary Poetry
TO THE HOUSTONIA CERULEA, by JAMES GATES PERCIVAL Poet's Biography First Line: How often, modest flower Last Line: The joy that peace imparts. Subject(s): Flowers | ||||||||
HOW often, modest flower, I mark thy tender blossoms, where they spread, Along the turfy slope, their starry bed, Hung heavy with the shower. Thou comest in the dawn Of nature's promise, when the sod of May Is speckled with its earliest array, And strewest with bloom the lawn. 'T is but a few brief days, I saw the green hill in its fold of snow; But now thy slender stems arise, and blow In April's fitful rays. I love thee, delicate And humble, as thou art; thy dress of white, And blue, and all the tints where these unite, Or wrapped in spiral plait, Or to the glancing sun, Shining through checkered cloud, and dewy shower. Unfolding thy fair cross. Yes, tender flower, Thy blended colours run, And meet in harmony, Commingling, like the rainbow tints; thy urn Of yellow rises with a graceful turn, And as a golden eye, Its softly swelling throat Shines in the center of thy circle, where Thy downy stigma rises slim and fair, And catches as they float, A cloud of living air, The atom seeds of fertilizing dust, That hover, as thy lurking anthers burst; And O! how purely there Thy snowy circle, rayed With crosslets, bends its pearly whiteness round, And how thy spreading lips are trimly bound, With such a mellow shade As in the vaulted blue, Deepens at starry midnight, or grows pale, When mantled in the full-moon's silver veil, That calm ethereal hue. I love thee, modest flower! And I do find it happiness to tread, With careful step, along thy studded bed, At morning's freshest hour, Or when the day declines, And evening comes with dewy footsteps on, And now his golden hall of slumber won, The setting sun resigns His empire of the sky, And the cool breeze awakes her fluttering train -- I walk through thy parterres, and not in vain, For to my downward eye, Sweet flower! thou tellest how hearts As pure and tender as thy leaf, as low And humble as thy stem, will surely know The joy that peace imparts. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THEY SAW THE PROBLEM by MARK JARMAN SHAKE THE SUPERFLUX! by DAVID LEHMAN THE M??TIER OF BLOSSOMING by DENISE LEVERTOV TANKA DIARY (6) by HARRYETTE MULLEN VARIATIONS: 17 by CONRAD AIKEN FORCED BLOOM by STEPHEN ELLIOTT DUNN THE CORAL GROVE by JAMES GATES PERCIVAL |
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