Poem by Danske Dandridge

Bloodroot

A countless multitude they stand,
A Milky Way on either hand,
Ere yet the earliest Ferns unfold
Or meadow Cowslips count their gold.
           
White are my dreams, but whiter still
The Bloodroot on the lonely hill;
Lovely and pure my visions rise,
To fade before my yearning eyes;
But on that day I thought I trod
'Mid the embodied dreams of God.
           
Though frail those flowers, though brief their sway,
They sanctified one perfect day;
And, though the summer may forget,
In my rapt soul they blossom yet.

1. The Spirit of the Fall
2. Telepathy
3. Lost at Sea
4. The Night Watch
5. Beneath the Pines

Bliss Carman Bloodroot ("When April winds arrive")

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