To a Blue Hepatica
A flake of light-blue sky,
Perched on the top of a slender stem,
Like a bird with his azure wings outspread,
Here, at my feet, as I wandered by,
I found thee, wilding gem!
And the dead leaves rustled to my tread
In the weird and agèd wood.
I understood
As it were thy glance.
It was like a dance
Of glad surprise
In those sweet, blue eyes,
Which thou and heaven above
Dost 'mind me of.
I thought of winter gone,
When the brief sun shone,
Nor abated aught th’ intolerant cold,
Which would yield no place,
On the white earth’s face,
To thy beauty, O flower! But the mold,
Rich and black, under fallen leaves
Held thee safe as garnered sheaves.
Strange, that a tender flower like thee,
Against the rude and eager stress
Of Winter’s frosty selfishness,
In forefront of revolt should’st be!
And yet, rathe flower divine,
On whom I almost trod,
I take thee for a sign.
With peace thou art endued,
Petaled beatitude
And little child of God!
I, too, rebel against the old–
Against the drear, insensate cold
Of selfish customs manifold;
And I say that every kindly deed
Is a flower like thee in the wilderness,
And makes for peace, and will sow the seed
Of other deeds to help and bless.
When these are common-when strikes that hour,
Of Time the dower–
The world shall see life truly free–
The endless Summer that is to be,
The ripened fruit, the light, the power
Of democracy!
Spirits of peace are in the air,
And gleams of Springtime everywhere!
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