There is nothing special in an autumn crocus, I can see it in your eyes and in your stance, This violet chalice with anthers of powdered gold Is hardly worth to you a second glance.
I ask you to come closer and look deep Into the mystery unfolding here But your mind has raced ahead to other things; I drink alone from the cup of the waning year.
How fleeting are the days as beauty flees Across the landscape of the busy mind. Let me not speak to you of daffodils, Asters or chrysanthemums that find
Their way into my too-full heart this hour As frost and chill bite deep into the skin, Or how I work in wonder and delight In this paradise that we are living in,
For our souls have come to earth once more to see This dream of blue that is our destiny.
Poems Undated (1727)
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Narad
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