“Bend down--the marsh and meadow holds Pale yellow Pimpernels, And sun-begotten Marigolds Thyme, Orchis, Asphodels” ... (Fainter and fainter it grew Gentle as ebbing tide) “Butterfly steeple-jacks blue” ... (Fainter it grew And died) Echoing “Rosemary, Marjoram, Rue, Lavender, London Pride”
Beat quietly, hid heart. Build, little limbs, and brain divinely wrought, Grow, grow in peace. Around, the pangs of war Are powerless to cripple thee or mar Thy sure perfection. But, if Death besought For thee, our tethered souls could never part: Beat quietly, hid heart. Form, primal thought, Close-furled and sheltered as the budding Spring Unknown, unknowing, yet divinely planned. But stay awhile, for sounds of battle ring. Stir, little hand Unrealized--I count the dragging hours And yearn to see it clutch at yonder flowers; To see thy lucent feet and dimpled frame And gaze at heav’n-snatched eyes and know thy name, But stay awhile. For thou art best alone away from Man: Wait longer, tears unshed and lurking smile Of joy enshrined where every joy began. Time hurries as the moments thump along (Hark, little ears, my heart is beating strong) Life is aglow, alive, a perfect song. Around the land is ugly, but apart I fashion thee in thought. Now hush, for sleep Is here. Close, eyes unopened, voice unheard, Be still. Grow on in beauty till day creep ... Hark to my whispered word-- Beat quietly, hid heart.
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems, by Geoffrey Dearmer