The Last Chrysanthemum

Why should this flower delay so long
  To show its tremulous plumes?
Now is the time of plaintive robin-song,
  When flowers are in their tombs.

Through the slow summer, when the sun
  Called to each frond and whorl
That all he could for flowers was being done,
  Why did it not uncurl?

It must have felt that fervid call
  Although it took no heed,
Waking but now, when leaves like corpses fall,
  And saps all retrocede.

Too late its beauty, lonely thing,
  The season's shine is spent,
Nothing remains for it but shivering
  In tempests turbulent.

Had it a reason for delay,
  Dreaming in witlessness
That for a bloom so delicately gay
  Winter would stay its stress?

- I talk as if the thing were born
  With sense to work its mind;
Yet it is but one mask of many worn
  By the Great Face behind.

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Thomas Hardy

Thomas Hardy, was a Scottish Minister, Moderator of the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland and Professor of Eccesiastical History at Edinburgh University. more…

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"The Last Chrysanthemum" Poetry.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2019. Web. 20 Sep. 2019. <https://www.poetry.net/poem/36523/the-last-chrysanthemum>.

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