Classic Poem

Here are no flowers in bloom,
Yet fragrance fills the room,
And beauteous shapes and colors bless my sight;
Rich clusters of the rose
In their own green repose,
And midst those large, dark leaves reach beauty's height.

The past and I can meet
In knots of violets sweet;
Oh, what a mystic gift God gave these flowers!
We draw in their strange breath,
And grow as still as death,
In living over joys that have been ours.

I see the straw primrose,
Round which dark pansies close;
And heliotrope with tiny, brimming cup;
Carnations scent the air;
And amaryllis fair,
Hinting of Virgil's verse, seems looking up.
All these and more appear,
Though none of them are here;
They looked and breathed upon me months ago —
And died — how brief their stay!
Yet what I threw away
Was but their body, not their soul, I know.