Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 35 1832/To the Blue Anemone
The New Monthly Magazine, Volume 35, Pages 207-208
TO THE BLUE ANEMONE.
"And 'tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes."—Wordsworth.
Flower of starry clearness bright!
Quivering urn of coloured light!
Hast thou drawn thy cup's rich dye
From th' intenseness of the sky?
From a long, long fervent gaze,
Through the year's first golden days,
Up that blue and silent deep
Where, like things of sculptured sleep,
Alabaster clouds repose
With the sunshine on their snows?
Thither was thy heart's love turning,
Like a censer ever burning,
Till the purple heavens in thee
Set their smile, Anemone!
Or can those warm tints be caught
Each from some quick glow of Thought?
So much of bright Soul there seems
In thy bendings and thy gleams;—
So much thy sweet life resembles
That which feels, and weeps, and trembles;
While thy being I behold
To each loving breath unfold;
Or, like woman's willowy form,
Shrink before the gathering storm;
I could deem thee spirit-filled,
As a reed by music thrilled!
I could ask a Voice from thee,
Delicate Anemone!
Flower! thou seem'st not born to die,
With thy radiant purity;
But to melt in air away,
Mingling with the soft spring-day,
When the crystal heavens are still,
And faint azure veils each hill,
And the lime-leaf doth not move,
Save to songs that stir the grove;
And all earth is like one scene,
Glorified in waves serene!—
Then thy vanishing should be,
Pure and meek Anemone!
Flower! the laurel still may shed
Brightness round the victor's head;
And the rose in beauty's hair
Still its festal glory wear;
And the willow-leaves droop o'er
Brows, which love sustains no more:
But, by living rays refined,
Thou, the trembler of the wind,
Thou, the spiritual flower,
Sentient of each breeze and shower,
Thou, rejoicing in the skies,
And transpierced with all their dyes,
Breathing vase, with light o'erflowing,
Gem-like, to thy centre glowing,
Thou the poet's type shall be,
Flower of scent, Anemone!
F. H.