IRISES
IN a vase of gold
And scarlet, how cold
The flicker of wrinkled grays
In this iris-sheaf ! My eyes fill with wonder
At the tossed, moist light, at the withered scales under
And among the uncertain sprays.
The wavings of white
On the cloudy light,
And the finger-marks of pearl ;
The facets of crystal, the golden feather,
The way that the petals fold over together,
The way that the buds unfurl !
