Poets ’ Corner—

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 323, 7 April 1928, Page 19

Poets ’ Corner—

THE FLOWERS

( Written for THE SUN.) Where are dappled fields to show, Fields where crimson poppies blow? Where are 'violets undefiled , Silver lilies growing wild? Francis the barefoot Saint, The man of birds and flowers , Francis the ragged Saint Game with a sorroivful plaint: “Consider the little lilies That toil not, neither spin; O see how bare are the valleys! They have been gathered in, “Gathered from vale and pasture And garlanded for death. O God! that the earth’s spring vesture Be trussed for a funeral wreath. “See, on that coffin . yonder That lies in the drab black, hearse They have heaped all the valley's plunder: A curse on those bones, a curse! “And see, ivherc the violets gathered From, banks of green and. blue, Flowers that the old earth mothered, Are bound with lilies too. “Mourners and mutes are riven With grief for the vulgar dead. And the saints all weep in Heaven: For the flowers their tears are shed. “O God! that the flowers be tortured To pageant men to the dust! Flowers that the old earth nurtured All twisted, tied, and trussed. “But see! they have laid his body Close by yon field of corn, , Where tlie poppies are gathered ready. Their lips all wreathed in scorn. “God! like the stings of nettles. Like scorpions bound for whips , Is the smile on the myriad petals Of those cruel crimson lips!” —A. R. D. FAIRBURN.