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George MacDonald - To A February PrimroseGeorge MacDonald - To A February Primrose
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I know not what among the grass thou art, Thy nature, nor thy substance, fairest flower, Nor what to other eyes thou hast of power To send thine image through them to the heart; But when I push the frosty leaves apart And see thee hiding in thy wintry bower Thou growest up within me from that hour, And through the snow I with the spring depart. I have no words. But fragrant is the breath, Pale beauty, of thy second life within. There is a wind that cometh for thy death, But thou a life immortal dost begin, Where in one soul, which is thy heaven, shall dwell Thy spirit, beautiful Unspeakable!
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