Head hung low he strolls along
The squat, staid streets of London
Until halted by a throng
Of blossoming carnations
I ask: What mortal joy is grander
Than to be rapt by a flower as you meander?

And raise thy head in reverence
To a flourishing floral sight
Fanciful as rainbow’s end
Pure as a soul in flight
Bundles of them he saw at a glance
Adding their zest to the Spring’s gay dance

Glittering in resplendent hues
From all across the spectrum
Much colours did his eye amuse;
He didn’t know to expect them
He stood and sighed and thought: “How pleasant
To see the world turn iridescent!”

Beneath the trees, sunk in soil
Gestating all the year
The flowers with the earth embroiled
The work of life is dear
Dutifully they pledge upon
Their lives to keep life going on

It pays well to flash thine eyes
On things that are lesser seen
Much is hidden in this world
That is soothing and serene
He left, his heart in gestation
Just like the blossoming carnations