The Peony

Pause in silent stare with me,

In reverent awe of majesty;

No finer robes than richest kings,

Each perfumed petal humbly brings.


Sent from Heaven’s sweetest scent,

Godheads’s breath in soft descent;

Whispering wisps of fragrance found,

Senses’ ecstasy abound.


Softer felt … fingers never felt,

Nor dare to stroke lest tender touch might melt;

Petals’ velvet queenly gown,

Softer than the softest down.


No color on the palette dare compare,

To posed pink frocks each flower deigns to wear;

In color subtler than the brush can make,

Made only by the Maker for man’s sake.


Oh bow before nature’s heavenly throne,

More resplendent than the world had ever known;

’til Heaven’s Gardner furrowed fecund field,

Bequeathing earth first fruit of Heaven’s yield.


More than man could ever hope to strive,

Gowned majesty full formed and yet alive!

Beauty’s bounty splayed but to content,

For man’s delight direct from heaven sent.