A Wildflower

Among the shadows of the wood, There blooms a flower wild, It sways beneath the gentle nod Of breezes cool and mild.

In colors bright as dawn’s first rays, It reaches for the light; And sings its song of soft repose To hearts in joy and fright.

So cherish every bloom and leaf, For in their perfect art, There lies the grace of nature’s gift, A mirror to the heart.

• Mary Gilmore