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Aldous Huxley

Aldous Huxley

The Flowers

Day after day,
   At spring’s return,
   I watch my flowers, how they burn
   Their lives away.
 
   The candle crocus
   And daffodil gold
   Drink fire of the sunshine—
   Quickly cold.
 
   And the proud tulip—
   How red he glows!—
   Is quenched ere summer
   Can kindle the rose.
 
   Purple as the innermost
   Core of a sinking flame,
   Deep in the leaves the violets smoulder
   To the dust whence they came.
 
   Day after day
   At spring’s return,
   I watch my flowers, how they burn
   Their lives away,
   Day after day ...

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