Upon a bank I sat, a child made seer <br />Of one small primrose flowering in my mind. <br />Better than wealth it is, I said, to find <br />One small page of Truth's manuscript made clear. <br />I looked at Christ transfigured without fear-- <br />The light was very beautiful and kind, <br />And where the Holy Ghost in flame had signed <br />I read it through the lenses of a tear. <br />And then my sight grew dim, I could not see <br />The primrose that had lighted me to Heaven, <br />And there was but the shadow of a tree <br />Ghostly among the stars. The years that pass <br />Like tired soldiers nevermore have given <br />Moments to see wonders in the grass. <br /> <br /> <br />Submitted by Andrew Mayers<br /><br />Patrick Kavanagh<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/primrose/
