A poem by Aldous Huxley (1894 – 1963)


Day after day,

At spring’s return,

I watch my flowers, how they burn

Their lives away.

The candle crocus

And daffodil gold

Drink fire of the sunshine–

Quickly cold.

And the proud tulip–

How red he glows!–

Is quenched ere summer

Can kindle the rose.

Purple as the innermost

Core of a sinking flame,

Deep in the leaves the violets smoulder

To the dust whence they came.

Day after day

At spring’s return,

I watch my flowers, how they burn

Their lives away,

Day after day …

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