Sonnet Li. The Human Flower. 1.

IN the old void of unrecorded time, In long, slow æons of the voiceless past, A seed from out the weltering fire-mist cast Took root — a struggling plant that from its prime Through rudiments uncouth, through rock and slime, Grew, changing form and issue — and clinging fast, Stretched its aspiring tendrils — till at last Shaped like a spirit it began to climb Beyond its rugged stem with leaf and bud Still burgeoning to greet the sunlit air That clothed its regal top with love and power, And compassed it as with a heavenly flood — Until it burst in bloom beyond compare, The world's consummate, peerless human flower.