Primrose
by Patrick Kavanagh
Upon a bank I sat, a child made seer
Of one small primrose flowering in my mind.
Better than wealth it is, I said, to find
One small page of Truth’s manuscript made clear.
I looked at Christ transfigured without fear–
The light was very beautiful and kind,
And where the Holy Ghost in flame had signed
I read it through the lenses of a tear.
And then my sight grew dim, I could not see
The primrose that had lighted me to Heaven,
And there was but the shadow of a tree
Ghostly among the stars. The years that pass
Like tired soldiers nevermore have given
Moments to see wonders in the grass.
End of the poem
15 random poems
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- Paris In Spring by Sara Teasdale
- In the Night poem – Amy Levy poems | Poems and Poetry
- Expectations by Pamela Griffiths
- On the Subject of Poetry by W. S. Merwin
- Иван Бунин – Беру твою руку и долго смотрю
- Robert Burns: There’ll Never Be Peace Till Jamie Comes Hame:
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- Southern Sunrise by Sylvia Plath
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- Владимир Степанов – Барби (Буква Б)
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- Morning Midday And Evening Sacrifice poem – Gerard Manley Hopkins poems
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Quant.com – a search engine from France, and also an alternative, at least for Europe
Yandex – the Russian search engine (it’s probably the best search engine for image searches).
