I
“HERE are sweet peas, on tip-toe for a flight.”
How aptly that immortal poet sings
Of these and of all other lovely things
Which move the heart to rapture through the sight,
As though these flowers, so shapely and so bright,
Were fairies, poised on half-expended wings!
And still the fragrance of a garden clings
To every page that Keats was spared to write.
For of all poets of whatever clime
None ever loved the garden more than he,
Who was himself a flower that ere its prime
Perished untimely. Ere the bud could be
Brought to full splendour by the April sun,
A glimpse of beauty opened, and was done.
II
Surely the poet’s vision must be true.
Pixies are these, by Oberon’s command,
Sent on a mission here from Fairy Land,
Winged and attired in red or purple-blue,
White, or maroon, or pinks of subtle hue;
But unto those who do not understand,
And would have all imagination banned,
Just sweet pea flowers, and nothing strange or new.
But in a garden undiluted prose
Is surely wrong, and poesy is right;
And one thing gives us courage to suppose
That in our garden fairies take delight;
For though they stand on tip-toe for a flight,
There they remain, and not a fairy goes.
(Robert Henry Forster)
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Based on Topics: Sense & Perception Poems, Flowers Poems, Beauty Poems, Literature Poems, Garden Poems, Poets Poems, Fairy PoemsBased on Keywords: maroon, pixies, undiluted, purple-blue