FLORENCE TABER HOLT
193
III
FLOWERS
Not all flowers have souls,
But roses, for they are memories of lovers,
And lilies, their prayers,
Azaleas, who give themselves to the winds,
And irises, beloved of Pindar,
And the pale oenothera,
Incandescent in the twilight,
And many sweet and simple flowers—
Snowdrops and violets,
White and delicately veined—
And all shadowy wind-flowers.
But not tree blossoms,
Which are but the breath of Spring,
Nor poppies, splendid and secret,
And sprung from drops of Persian blood,
Nor water-lilies, who have but their dreams,
And float, little worlds of scent and colour,
Wrapt in their own golden atmosphere.
