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)
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