 | The poems of Madison Cawein |  |
115
FLOWERS
Oh, why for us the blighted bloom,
The blossom that lies withering!—
Why has He, of Life's changeless loom,
Created here no changeless thing?
The blossom that lies withering!—
Why has He, of Life's changeless loom,
Created here no changeless thing?
Where grows the rose of fadeless Grace?
Through which the spirit manifests
The fact of an immortal place,
The dream on which religion rests.
Through which the spirit manifests
The fact of an immortal place,
The dream on which religion rests.
Where buds the lily of our Faith?
That grows for us in unknown wise,
Out of the barren dust of death,
The pregnant bloom of Paradise.
That grows for us in unknown wise,
Out of the barren dust of death,
The pregnant bloom of Paradise.
In Heaven! so near that flowers know!
That flowers see how near!—and thus
Reflect the knowledge here below
Of love and life unknown to us.
That flowers see how near!—and thus
Reflect the knowledge here below
Of love and life unknown to us.
| The poems of Madison Cawein | |