Tuesday, February 24, 2009

The Crocus

Beneath the sunny autumn sky,
With gold leaves dropping round,
We sought, my little friend and I,
The consecrated ground,
Where, calm beneath the holy cross,
O'ershadowed by sweet skies,
Sleeps tranquilly that youthful form,
Those blue unclouded eyes.

Around the soft, green swelling mound
We scooped the earth away,
And buried deep the crocus-bulbs
Against a coming day.
"These roots are dry, and brown, and sere;
Why plant them here?" he said,
"To leave them, all the winter long,
So desolate and dead."

"Dear child, within each sere dead form
There sleeps a living flower,
And angel-like it shall arise
In Spring's returning hour."
Ah, deeper down cold, dark, and chill
We buried our heart's flower,
But angel-like shall he arise
In Spring's immortal hour.

In blue and yellow from its grave
Springs up the crocus fair,
And god shall raise those bright blue eyes,
Those sunny waves of hair.
Not for a fading summer's morn,
Not for a fleeting hour,
But for an endless age of bliss,
Shall rise our heart's dear flower


Marilyn Miller said...

Love the crocus. It is such a harbinger of spring. We have a heart of crocus growing in our front lawn. Usually it is ready by valentines, but this year it was alittle slow showing it's face.

Angela McRae said...

Beautiful! Thanks for sharing such loveliness today!

Blogging My Life Away said...

I love the crocus. Peeking out..so ready for spring to start.

Anonymous said...

Lovely! I always thought of Harriet Beecher Stowe only as a novelist, not a poet. Learned something new today! Thank you!

Philigry said...

beautiful! ours will be here in about six weeks, or so!

La Tea Dah said...

Thanks, Steph, for visiting Rylan's blog. I think he's enjoying doing it and I know he loves tea!

:) LaTeaDah