FLOWERS FOR A CHILD

The grave auricula, The bramble like the snow, The red anemone, These she may come to know; The orchis and the rose. All these, like the green leaf Intransigent and brief, She may not well forego.

These she will understand: The sunlight deep and wide, Pervasive as the seed, More certain to abide Than the single season; The kind, and the good heart; Her laughter; and the part Of love no fear can hide.

She will acknowledge love, The summer swept with sun Like the tall goldenrod; And the slow benison The heart will learn in time, Even of pain, may keep Disaster from her sleep; To this she will be won.

The blueflag, and the sedge, Like the white hellebore, And the blind arum, white As bone along the shore Of the pond; for all these The heart, at length, may speak The weed the mind may seek Will but enrich its store.

But not the flowers alone, Fulfill this mortal need. O love must grow in time, In time must come to seed, And the slow cycle change. How time sustains its flight, Spanning the mortal sight; This she will surely heed.