Naming the Flowers
Adam named the animals,
But did he name the flowers?
I don’t think so.
Cow Vetch, Sheep Laurel and Colt’s Foot,
It was a farmer who named these,
Sprouting in his workaday life,
Not wasting a minute on beauty,
In a plant or in a name.
Hoary Alyssum, Virgin’s Bower and Golden Alexander,
Sonnet-sounding and Elizabethan,
They could have been named by Spenser,
Peopling pages of The Faerie Queene,
And wanting garlands in there too.
Buttered Eggs, Swamp Candles, Jack-in-the-Pulpit,
These are names from someone lonely,
Wandering woods and hungering for home,
Or just hungering,
And seeing in flowers, food and light.
Turtlehead and Milkweed,
Are why-bother names,
While Painted Trillium and Rose Pogonia,
Belong in Shakespeare,
Dressing the woods of Arden.
Bluets are a color,
Heal Alls are hope,
Solomon’s Seal tells a story,
Sundrops are brilliant,
And Bladder Campion’s a cure.
And I see before me Goldthreads,
Bright amidst the green,
Poking up tiny, white and perfect,
A conjuring and a visitation,
Threads to sew a fairy fabric.
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