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Saturday, August 5, 2017

(5) THE NEW GRASS GROWS WITH ZEST THAT NEVER FAILS


Legacy

The buttercups that gild the hills

What wealth provide us;

Earth's brimming tills of daffodils

Would dazzle Midas.


This is April's legacy

Which all inherit:

The tender gold of flower and tree.

                                                                Rejoice and share it!



To a Butterfly

O little astronaut of winged dust,

The summer air is yours to try and trust,

An ocean, limitless, of sunny hours

With isles of rest which are the nodding flowers.


Your languid wings, how excellent their span,

Infallible, ineffable, their plan,

As casually you leave the flower there

And lightly soar the iridescent air.


Spring

As in a small reflecting-glass

The sun's rays fiercely focus,

So Spring is captured in the grass

               By one important crocus.                
                     

Renewal

Now in the fields the clover-bloom exhales

The hoarded summers on her perfumed breath.

The new grass grows with zest that never fails

Spring's yearly resurrection after death.


Unquestioning, the young fern breaks the mold,

The jonquil's cup is filled with morning wine,

And life's bright flame, unquenched by winter's cold,

Is bright within the candle of the pine.


 Ernestine Cobern Beyer, my beautiful mother


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