The Crocus Bed

YELLOW as the noonday sun,

Purple as a day that's done,

White as mist that lingers pale

On the edge of morning's veil,

Delicate as love's first kiss —

Crocuses are just like this.

Ere the robin paints his breast,

Ere the daffodil is drest,

Ere the iris’ lovely head

Waves above her perfumed bed

Comes the crocus — and the Spring

Follows after, wing on wing!

Sweet perfection, holding up

Magic dew in topaz cup,

Alabaster, amethyst —

Curling lips which Earth has kissed,

Folded hearts where secrets hide,

Secrets old when Eve was bride!

Beauty's soul was born with wings,

Flight inspires all lovely things —

Would you gather rainbow fire?

See the rose of dawn's desire

Turn to ash beneath the moon?—

Crocuses must leave us soon.