TO A VIRGINIA BLUEBELL

  

You nod to me across the trail

That runs before my garden seat.

With clustered bells of blue you greet

My visit with a subtle peal.

 

You wave your frolic fans of green

So gaily, as if you had met

Some kinsman or awaited yet

A long lost friend to grace the scene.

 

A friend indeed this scene has graced,

Projecting in his mental sight

A sphere within which Nature’s face

Beams out as with a mirror’s light.

 

Long lost no more, now recognized,

My roots beside yours in the earth,

Together we unite in mirth—

While botanists but classify.

 

Some people blow that way and this,

Whichever way the wind doth blow:

Some people fly like April snow,

And say you have no consciousness—

 

Unlike themselves, whose knowledge glues

Each specimen with abstract frame.

They see things but as things are named:

Myself, I share one Mind with you.

 

And I to you must nod my head,

Assenting with the voice of Spring

That tinkles from my bells and sings

Blue music in our flower bed!