Camomile, you mite of whiteness, <br />To refresh the road I've taken, <br />Rising from the dust, you stand there, <br />With your glowing head uplifted... <br /> <br />For a poor man trekking stubbles, <br />Such a blossom's full of riches – <br />Now I'm not alone, that's certain – <br />In earth's void, I'm not forsaken... <br /> <br />Cured the ills of nagging hardship, <br />Quiet now the pain of longing, <br />Vanished from my breast the exile's <br />Terror of earth crucifixion... <br /> <br />Since you've brimmed the sun's own chalice, <br />Darkling, I stride on more surely, <br />While my heart in silence reckons <br />What you're singing to my spirit...<br /><br />Jurgis Baltrušaitis<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/camomile/
