Enigma With Flower

Victory. It has come late, I had not learnt
how to arrive, like the lily, at will,
the white figure, that pierces
the motionless eternity of earth,
pushing at clear, faint, form,
till the hour strikes: that clay,
with a white ray, or a spur of milk.
Shedding of clothing, the thick darkness of soil,
on whose cliff the fair flower advances,
till the flag of its whiteness
defeats the contemptible deep of night,
and, from the motion of light,
spills itself in astonished seed.

by Pablo Neruda

Comments (5)

Very light and happy, for William Blake!
Look at how many happy words sparkle happily in these verses. This is a real cutie: .... the dimpling stream runs laughing by;
The magic of nature comes alive in the form of colours and sounds which are not for our ears or eyes but for the heart of all nature lovers. It is the nature in full bloom. Wonderful poem.
I'm not laughing. William Blake has many better poems than this one that could have been chosen as Poem of the Day.
A nice poem -When the air does laugh with our merry wit, And the green hill laughs with the noise of it;