Winter-thought
The wind-swayed daisies, that on every side
Throng the wide fields in whispering companies,
Serene and gently smiling like the eyes
Of tender children long beatified,
The delicate thought-wrapped buttercups that glide
Like sparks of fire above the wavering grass,
And swing and toss with all the airs that pass,
Yet seem so peaceful, so preoccupied;
These are the emblems of pure pleasures flown,
I scarce can think of pleasure without these.
Even to dream of them is to disown
The cold forlorn midwinter reveries,
Lulled with the perfume of old hopes new-blown,
No longer dreams, but dear realities.
~~
Archibald Lampman (1861-1899)
from Among the Millet, and other poems, 1888
[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]
Evelyn Simak, Buttersups in the marshes, 2008 (detail). CC BY-SA 2.0, Wikimedia Commons
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