Classic Poem

Long years have you been known to me, my friend,
Open and honest do your deeds appear.
But as these beauty-bordered paths I wend,
I catch your meaning, hundredfold more clear.
In warm rich dahlia's yellow, and the blue
Of flax, as tender as a turquoise sky;
From princely purple of the cosmos hue,
Or white moon-flowers that by day must die,
Deeper expression of you do I find,
Depths that mere words ne'er told me, subtle hints
Of soul beneath all showings of the mind,
An emanation from these flower tints.
Long years…at last, within this garden spot,
You stand revealed, as earlier you were not.