IN shining groups, each stem a pearly ray, <br />Weird flecks of light within the shadowed wood, <br />They dwell aloof, a spotless sisterhood. <br />No Angelus, except the wild bird's lay, <br />Awakes these forest nuns; yet night and day <br />Their heads are bent, as if in prayerful mood. <br />A touch will mar their snow, and tempests rude <br />Defile; but in the mist fresh blossoms stray <br />From spirit-gardens just beyond our ken. <br />Each year we seek their virgin haunts, to look <br />Upon new loveliness, and watch again <br />Their shy devotions near the singing brook; <br />Then, mingling in the dizzy stir of men, <br />Forget the vows made in that cloistered nook.<br /><br />Mary Thacher Higginson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ghost-flowers/
