Classic Poem

Down the lane I wandered, and I could only see
That there were white and purple flowers on both sides of the way.
Between the clusters growing there and me walking the lane,
What ages of experience, what worlds of human pain!

Then suddenly the morning sun threw off a robe of cloud,
And suddenly I became aware of every single flower:
I saw a bright young angel lifting a golden crown,
And a dark girl with veiled head and her hair hanging down.

I bent to the purple violet and raised her lovely face;
Her eyes were bright and from her hair came odour rich as wine;
The primrose smiled at me and said, “In sunshine or in rain
How could you pass such friends of yours with looks of chill disdain?”

I said, “I never saw you there.” He said, “You didn't look.
You thought I was just petals raised upon a slender stalk;
You thought this darling friend of mine, whose breath comes from her heart,
A lesser form of life than yours, something from you apart.

“Oh proud and foolish! He who gives us power to fill the hedge
With this disordered loveliness, with scent and colour too,
Has he not lifted you as well out of the humble dust?
Then if he be our parent, should we not each other trust?

“Can you unfold your love and joy if no one smile on you?
Under the cold eye of disdain, beneath suspicion's glance
Do you not always shrink and hide the man I'm talking to
Till you are nothing, or perhaps a beast with prey in view?

“So do not wander down the lane with veiled eyes any more,
For though we all are nothing, and by any shower destroyed,
The loveliness you find in us is but the passing smile
Of him who holds out loveliness with both hands all the while.

“And if our eyes we open wide, he does not seem to us
A passing joy, a lucky chance, a fitful waking dream;
But we can always see him coming through the veils of sense,
And in his bright recurrence feel our wealth and permanence.”