Cloud and Flower
I saw the giant stalking to the sky,
The giant cloud above the wilderness,
Bearing a mystery too far, too high,
For my poor guess.
Away I turned me, sighing: “I must seek
In lowlier places for the wonder-word.
Something more little, intimate, shall speak.”
A bright rose stirred.
And long I looked into its face, to see
At last some hidden import of the hour.
And I had thought to turn from mystery—
But O, flower! flower!
Agnes Lee