Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.
By Titus MunsonCoan786 A Dream of Flowers
E
The blossoms of the garden than the blooms
Won by the mountain climber: theirs the tints
And forms that most delight me,—theirs the charm
That lends an aureole to the azure heights
Whereon they flourish, children of the dews
And mountain streamlets.
But in sleep sometimes
Mountain and meadow blend their gifts in one.
This morn I trod the secret path of dreams,
And, lo! my wilding flowers sprang thick around me,
Alpine and lowland too; and with them sprang
Blossoms that never had I known before
Except in poets’ pages—fancied forms
And hues that shone in more than Alpine light.
Poppies incarnadine and rosemary,
And violets with gentle eyes were there,
And their sweet cousinry, the periwinkles;
Night-blooming cereus, agrimony, rue,
And stately damask roses, Eastern queens,
The noblest-born of flowers; and by their side
The panthers of the meadow, tiger-lilies;
Came with her trembling banner of perfumed bells
The lily of the valley, and the jessamine,
Princesses twain with maiden fragrance pure;
The azure of the Alpine gentian shone
Intense beneath the rival blue of heaven;
Along the heights blossomed the Alpine rose,
And higher yet the starry edelweiss,—
And sweet the wind came o’er the visioned Alp.
To my dimmed sense a riddle; then was ’ware
Of daytime colors blending with my dream,
And cleared my eyes, and saw my roguish girl,
A witch of seven, with flowers in both her hands,
Fresh-gathered in my garden, stealing in
Upon my morning vision, and waving me
Their fragrance. “Wake!” she cried, and I awoke
To her, a sweeter flower than all the rest!