And then—this morning—there it was,
A blossom on the stalk—
The lily’s way to contradict—
Of course, it cannot talk.
It somehow knew I'd doubted it—
And, not to be outdone,
It spread its petals to the air,
And glowed in morning sun.
“Her yea is yea,” wrote Emerson
Of Nature’s final power.
Her “nay” is “nay,” he added—was
He thinking of our flower?
That lily near our cedar fence
Had seemed so near its doom.
But Nature spoke, instead, a “Yea!”
A lily burst in bloom.
He euchered me; I was inflamed.
I took him out—was never blamed.
Shakespeare Couplet: A Midsummer Night’s Dream (42):
“Why then we are awake,” Demetrius
Concludes. They leave—with so much to discuss. (4.1)