HIGH-LYING, sea-blown stretches of green turf, <br />Wind-bitten close, salt-colored by the sea, <br />Low curve on curve spread far to the cool sky, <br />And, curving over them as long they lie, <br />Beds of wild fleur-de-lys. <br /> <br />Wide-flowing, self-sown, stealing near and far, <br />Breaking the green like islands in the sea; <br />Great stretches at your feet, and spots that bend <br />Dwindling over the horizon’s end,— <br />Wild beds of fleur-de-lys. <br /> <br />The light keen wind streams on across the lifts, <br />Their wind of western springtime by the sea; <br />The close turf smiles unmoved, but over her <br />Is the far-flying rustle and sweet stir <br />In beds of fleur-de-lys. <br /> <br />And here and there across the smooth, low grass <br />Tall maidens wander, thinking of the sea; <br />And bend, and bend, with light robes blown aside, <br />For the blue lily-flowers that bloom so wide,— <br />The beds of fleur-de-lys.<br /><br />Charlotte Perkins Stetson Gilman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-beds-of-fleur-de-lys/
