 | The Poems of A. C. Benson |  |
152
FLOWER CROWNS
No radiant diadem
For heroes' brows I twine;
Roses and bay for them,
Sad leaves for thine!
For heroes' brows I twine;
Roses and bay for them,
Sad leaves for thine!
Not the sepulchral yew,
That wears a solemn grace;
That were more meet to strew
Some dear dead face.
That wears a solemn grace;
That were more meet to strew
Some dear dead face.
Heartsease and violets
In sweet humility;
These are for calm regrets,
And not for thee.
In sweet humility;
These are for calm regrets,
And not for thee.
Thorns for the holy brow
Of royal suffering;
A crown of pain, and thou
Art more than king.
Of royal suffering;
A crown of pain, and thou
Art more than king.
But flowers that close at eve,
When dews of healing fall;
Frail weeds of night shall weave
Thy coronal.
When dews of healing fall;
Frail weeds of night shall weave
Thy coronal.
153
Or those rude herbs that shed
Their seed in miry ways;
The lark sings overhead,
With none to praise.
Their seed in miry ways;
The lark sings overhead,
With none to praise.
Lilies for innocence,
Snowdrops for hope divine,
The rue for sad suspense,
And that is thine!
Snowdrops for hope divine,
The rue for sad suspense,
And that is thine!
| The Poems of A. C. Benson | |