THE FLOWERS

By Aldous Huxley

Day after day,

At spring's return,

I watch my flowers, how they burn

Their lives away.

The candle crocus

And daffodil gold

Drink fire of the sunshine —

Quickly cold.

And the proud tulip —

How red he glows!—

Is quenched ere summer

Can kindle the rose.

Purple as the innermost

Core of a sinking flame,

Deep in the leaves the violets smoulder

To the dust whence they came.

Day after day

At spring's return,

I watch my flowers, how they burn

Their lives away,

Day after day...