To watch the blooms shoot in the spring,
Is verging on a miracle anew.
In every pulsating bud I bring,
The essence of both old and knew.

The swings of seasons guide our fate,
The gardener’s toil is not in vain.
For nature does elaborate,
On love and loss, on joy, and pain.

So let the flowers teach us well,
In colors bright, in whispers cold.
What essence in the petals dwell,
Love-story soft and vibrant told.

• Philip Larkin