At the Botanical Garden
The orchids droop in luxurious hues Among the feathery vines As if the dew had melted in the dawn, Bright flowers who are never, never done With beauty’s dream.
Could lilies tuck their petals close in blue? Or roses hang their heads so low they see The earth?
No one shall hold their beauty to a leaf, For blossom and color conceive their end, But let us dream aside so many days, And praise these flowers, wondrous and uncommon.
- Amy Lowell