
THE CROCUS
Harriet Beecher Stowe
Beneath the sunny autumn sky,
With gold leaves dropping round,

The consecrated ground,

O'ershadowed by sweet skies,

Those blue unclouded eyes.

Around the soft, green swelling mound
We scooped the earth away,

Against a coming day.
"These roots are dry, and brown, and sere;

"To leave them, all the winter long,
So desolate and dead."

"Dear child, within each sere dead form
There sleeps a living flower,
And angel-like it shall arise
In spring's returning hour."

We buried our heart's flower,

In spring's immortal hour.
In blue and yellow from its grave
Springs up the crocus fair,
And God shall raise those bright blue eyes,

Not for a fading summer's morn,

But for an endless age of bliss,
Shall rise our heart's dear flower

2 comments:
I really like this poem. The photos just match it perfectly! Yeah for spring.... 67 degrees up our way today.
Yes, the crocuses look so cheerful and springlike. I sat out in the sun a bit today, and it felt so good.
Post a Comment