|
To Ridgely
Torrence
On Last
Looking into His 'Hesperides'
I often see
flowers from a passing car
That are gone before I can tell what they are.
I want to
get out of the train and go back
To see what they were beside the track.
I name all
the flowers I am sure they weren't;
Not fireweed loving where woods have burnt--
Not
bluebells gracing a tunnel mouth--
Not lupine living on sand and drouth.
Was
something brushed across my mind
That no one on earth will ever find?
Heaven gives it glimpses only to those
Not in position to look too close. |
