Tulips
An age being mathematical, these flowers Of linear stalks and spheroid blooms were prized By men with wakened, speculative minds,
And when with mathematics they explored The Macrocosm, and came at last to The Vital Spirit of the World, and named it Invisible Pure Fire, or, say, the Light,
The Tulips were the Light's receptacles.
The gold, the bronze, the red, the bright-swart Tulips!
No emblems they for us who no more dream Of mathematics burgeoning to light With Newton's prism and Spinoza's lens,
Or berkeley's ultimate,
Invisible Pure Fire.
In colored state and carven brilliancy We see them now, or, more illumined,
In sudden fieriness, as flowers fit To go with vestments red on Pentecost.
Padraic Colum
Other author posts
Monkeys
Two little creatures with faces the size of a pair of pennies are clasping each other Ah do not leave me One says to the other in the high monkey - cage in the beast shop there are no people to gape at them now for people are loth peer...
The City Clocks
HE City clocks point out the They look like moons on their darkened towers-And I who was shown my Thrice, but have no sense of location, Am back again at one or the
Otters
I'LL be an otter, and I'll let you swimA mate beside me; we will venture downA deep, full river when the sky Is shut of the sun; spoilers are we; Thick-coated; no dog's tooth can bite at our With ears and eyes of poachers; deep-earthed
The Poet
HE blackbird's in the briar, The seagull's on the ground-They are nests, and they're more than nests, he said,They are tokens I have found There, where the rain-dashed Marks an empty glade,