Silently a flower blooms,
In silence it falls away;
Yet here now, at this moment,
at this place,
the whole of the flower
the whole of the world is blooming.
This is the talk of the flower,
the truth of the blossom;
The glory of eternal life is fully
shining here.
When from our better selves we have too long
Been parted by the hurrying world, and droop,
Sick of its business, of its pleasures tired,
How gracious, how benign, is Solitude.