The Book
Lilies -------as tall as ourselves and more lovely,
and full of fragrance, and long orange tongues,
and those playthings that bees - stood in
a neighbor's yard, a thick , ramping hedge of them.
You could not help but see
that to be beautiful is also to be simple
and brief; is to rise up and be glorious ,
and then vanish; is to be silent but as though a song was in you
only it hasn't yet been heard
At least in a garden of real earth and sparrows and wrens ,
and people hurrying on to the usual daily foolishness
that comes to so little so far as the real things matter
:eternity,the unseen, the unrecognized ,
the filling of the heart with goodness,
as if it were a hive in which nothing corrupt could live.
And I thought if anyone of them could write the story of their lives ,
who wouldn't stand in line and hand over the last of their shining money
oh , the very end of their shining money ---- to buy it.
Mary Oliver
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