Upon an April noontime rain, Like one by adage made immortal My busy stride arrested Where a blossom spry, precocious My worldly gaze invested Twice in lavender—a crocus. And looking so, I crossed a sphered portal Down, down the stalk of pulsing green A vestige of the springtime dew Pursued the course it wended With an industry and vigor The place at which it ended Altered not by all its rigor Refracting every sage and purple hue How little could you guess, mused I, Had you a soul to spark such thoughts, As you glisten, move, and thrive That the end of ev’ry pursuit, Carried on as on you strive, Is blackened loam and flower root, To sink there hidden ‘midst the woody knots. Or might you pause a moment there, To contemplate the distant sky Blue, gold, gray, but never green, Stars at nightfall, star by day Glow in unreflected sheen. The sun which burns you now away Inspires dreams which make your fancies fly; Down, down the streams and river bends, To join the Water Great beyond? Or rise now, invisible To resurrected, fall anew? Perhaps gone; indivisible From naught, to keep the sky its blue? Or be reborn into a crocus frond? All that and more, O liquid drop! Let faith nor doubt destroy thy bliss! All this that you now perceive Must be in part, but know whereas Time will surely give its leave Uniting you with all that is. The grand design is grander still than this! The drop continues on its way, And soon I headed off on mine, Striding back to hearth and home; I’d tarried long beyond my time. Water drops and bits of loam Yield naught, no matter how the rhyme Lest tended by the plow and by the tine.