 | The Poet and Nature and The Morning Road |  |
THE PURPLE FLOWER.
There is a flower that blooms for ill or goodWithin the grove of Life. Its stalk is frail
Yet strong, and bends to every passing gale,
That breathes or blusters through the solitude.
Some call it “Doubt-and-Dream,” and “red as blood”
Its bloom; and others, when their efforts fail,
Name it “Despair-and-Die,” and call it pale:
For unto each 'tis differently imbued.
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Is neither white nor crimson, but deep blue;
Its name is “Hope and Wait.” The color-blind
But see it otherwise, and, seeing, mar
Its attributes, from which it takes its hue
According to man's attitude of mind.
| The Poet and Nature and The Morning Road | |