Secrets

The grass has grown tall,
The flowers have bloomed.
I wish I could call
Unto the doomed.

I wish they could sing
Merrily or even, wearily
Ring ring ring,
With heads hanging heavily.

They never speak,
Even from their grave,
For their voices are weak,
And carried slowly on the wave to Time.

For hidden amongst the
Busy air, under the sea,
Behind beauty fair
Lies great daring mystery.

For once I spied the tall grass,
And saw it wave.
For once I eyed the bloom,
Fearing for its petal,
And knew suddenly of things unrevealed
Great and to us so tightly sealed.

But listen if you can,
To the voice of the doomed.
They speak to you a man,
And can disperse your thoughts assumed

They shed light on darker sides,
And lay bare the secrets
Nature in them so generously confides.