Bloodroot (Sanguinaria canadensis)
(photo courtesy of little sister, the "Holly" of KaHolly)
What time the earliest ferns unfold
And meadow cowslips count their gold,
A countless multitude they stood,
A Milky Way within the wood.
White are my dreams, but whiter still,
The bloodroot on the lonely hill,
Lovely and pure my visions rise,
To fade before my yearning eyes;
But on that day I thought I trod
'Mid the embodied dreams of God.
Tho' frail those flowers, tho' brief their sway,
They sanctified one perfect day;
And tho' the summer may forget,
In my rapt soul they blossom yet.