William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878)
To the Fringed Gentian.
THOU blossom bright with autumn dew,
And coloured with the heaven's own blue,
That openest when the quiet light
Succeeds the keen and frosty night.
Thou comest not when violets lean
O'er wandering brooks and springs unseen,
Or columbines, in purple dressed,
Nod o'er the ground-bird's hidden nest.
Thou waitest late and com'st alone,
When woods are bare and birds are flown,
And frosts and shortening days portend
The aged year is near his end.
Then doth thy sweet and quiet eye
Look through its fringes to the sky,
Blue—blue—as if that sky let fall
A flower from its cerulean wall.
I would that thus, when I shall see
The hour of death draw near to me,
Hope, blossoming within my heart,
May look to heaven as I depart.
IN the Senator's case, he knows that if he surrenders, the cold, wintry jail cell awaits him; all his other friends will abandon him like flowers fallen to the ground and his political friends will migrate to the side of the winning party (the Government). But still, when there's HOPE in your heart there' s so much to live for: A new LOVE, a brighter future, or maybe, even just a glimpse of the fabled Fringed Gentian.
-- Ninang Nila Sage