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Upon a bank I sat, a child made seer
Of one small primrose flowering in my mind.
Better than wealth it is, I said, to find
One small page of Truth's manuscript made clear.
I looked at Christ transfigured without fear--
The light was very beautiful and kind,
And where the Holy Ghost in flame had signed
I read it through the lenses of a tear.
And then my sight grew dim, I could not see
The primrose that had lighted me to Heaven,
And there was but the shadow of a tree
Ghostly among the stars.  The years that pass
Like tired soldiers nevermore have given
Moments to see wonders in the grass.


Submitted by Andrew Mayers

Added: 21 Jul 2002 | Last Read: 26 Apr 2018 7:33 AM | Viewed: 4331 times

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