Frances Anne Kemble - The Black Wallflower lyrics

I found a flower in a desolate plot, Where no man wrought,—by a deserted cot, Where no man dwelt; a strange, dark-colour'd gem, Black heavy buds on a pale leafless stem; I pluck'd it, wondering, and with it hied To my brave May; and, showing it, I cried: 'Look, what a dismal flower! did ever bloom, Born of our earth and air, wear such a gloom? It looks as it should grow out of a tomb: Is it not mournful?' 'No,' replied the child; And, gazing on it thoughtfully, she smiled. She knows each word of that great book of God, Spread out between the blue sky and the sod: 'There are no mournful flowers—they are all glad; This is a solemn one, but not a sad.' Lo! with the dawn the black buds open'd slowly; Within each cup a colour deep and holy, As sacrificial blood, glow'd rich and red, And through the velvet tissue mantling spread; While in the midst of this dark crimson heat A precious golden heart did throb and beat; Through ruby leaves the morning light did shine, Each mournful bud had grown a flow'r divine; And bitter sweet to senses and to soul, A breathing came from them, that fill'd the whole Of the surrounding tranced and sunny air With its strange fragrance, like a silent prayer. Then cried I, 'From the earth's whole wreath I'll borrow No flower but thee! thou exquisite type of sorrow!'