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Robert Laurence Binyon - Flower And Voice
Work rating: Low

Tremulous out of that long darkness, how
 Wast thou, O blossom, made
 Upon the wintry bough?
 What drew thee to appear,
 Like a thought in the mind,
 Ignorant, unafraid,
 And perfect?--Yet the wind
 Blew on thee how sharp! how drear
 The drops fell from the sudden--clouded spring!

 Those delicate rare petals, all storm--thrilled,
 Shone into recollection, when my ear
 From a half--opened door was filled
 With a voice singing; floating up to sing
 A song, long ago from a heart`s darkness born
 And upon young lips born again;
 A voice, flowering clear
 In beauty stolen from the world of pain.

 Ah, not to--night of beauty I thought,
 Yet beautiful beyond all hope`s desire,
 O wonderful, more wonderful to me
 Than any miracle of beauty wrought
 Was my Love`s voice, saying beside the fire,
 Where she leaned by my knee,
 Dear, broken words; words of no art,
 And yet in them was all my want, I found;
 Life has no more to give than that sweet sound
 Breaking and melting deep in my heart`s heart.
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