The Flower of the Rock

Also, I saw a little Flower
Doing its duty healthily and well,
As brave as a man or a woman
And knowing just the points of hell;
The wild flowers shyly peeping
From the places where they grew;
The most commercial of thieves
Would not damn them in a row.

So beautiful, indeed, Was the lovely heart of this;
It showed to the eyes of the world,
It urged to the lips a kiss;
We bid them pass away,
But they could not pass away;
They loved each day and each hour,
They loved through the winter gray.

And all the winds that blow Were wrapped about them there,
They made for the Heavens to sing,
And filled with beauty the air —
I thought that they died not, and still,
Disk-like, they rise and shine,
Earth, smelling sweetly of gold —
Ice wishing to be divine.

A little harm there is with men,
They clustering lie in power;
Telling the world the hours o’er and o’er
Is part of their species’ glory;
But when we turn to the flower
We cling to the curl of their hues —
So as above and as below,
The war, reset as the cubes.

— James Collinson

• James Collinson