Far from this foreign Easter damp and chilly
My soul steals to a pear-shaped plot of ground,
Where gleamed the lilac-tinted Easter lily
Soft-scented in the air for yards around;
Alone, without a hint of guardian leaf!
Just like a fragile bell of silver rime,
It burst the tomb for freedom sweet and brief
In the young pregnant year at Eastertime;
And many thought it was a sacred sign,
And some called it the resurrection flower;
And I, a pagan, worshiped at its shrine,
Yielding my heart unto its perfumed power.
~~
Claude McKay (1889-1948)
from Harlem Shadows, 1922
[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]
ACES | Bruce Dupree, Easter Lillies, 2020. Public domain, Wikimedia Commons
No comments:
Post a Comment