Classic and Contemporary Poetry
TIGER LILY, by WALTER ADOLPHE ROBERTS Poet's Biography First Line: Gray are the gardens of our celtic lands Last Line: Spring after spring. Subject(s): Ireland; Tiger Lilies; Irish | ||||||||
Gray are the gardens of our Celtic lands, Dreaming and gray, Tended by the devotion of pale hands, On barren crags, or by disastrous sands, That night and day Are drenched with bitter spray. There rosemary and thyme are plentiful, Larkspur that lovers cull, Love-in-the-mist that is most sorrowful. Flowers so wistful that our teardrops start.... Scarcely one understands that regal, rare, Bravely the tiger lily blossoms there, Bravely apart. Our gardens are enamored of the spring, Of silver rain, The cloudy green of buds slow-burgeoning, The sorrow of last apple blooms that cling And are not fain To yield their fruit again. We do not long for tropic pageantry, Yet surge with love to see The tiger lily's muted ecstasy. Watered by mist and lashed by wind-blown rime, She is no alien thing; but vivid, free, She has no heed for paler rosemary, Larkspur or thyme. It is in vain they worship her who knows Pity nor pride. Their petals whirl down every wind that goes South to the palms or northward to the snows, Mourning they died So distant from her side. But the brave tiger lily blossoms on, Never to be undone Till the last rosemary and thyme are gone. Tattered by autumn storms, she will not fling Herself to sullen foes. The winter rain Alone can beat her down, to bloom again Spring after spring. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SIGHTSEERS by PAUL MULDOON THE DREAM SONGS: 290 by JOHN BERRYMAN AN IRISH HEADLAND by ROBINSON JEFFERS THE GIANT'S RING: BALLYLESSON, NEAR BELFAST by ROBINSON JEFFERS IRELAND; WRITTEN FOR THE ART AUTOGRAPH DURING IRISH FAMINE by SIDNEY LANIER THE EYES ARE ALWAYS BROWN by GERALD STERN |
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