Classic Poem

In my neighbor's garden, over the stone wall,
White annunciation lilies stand, against blue
Larkspur. White and blue, madonna colors, tall
And filled with light, they seem to hold my view,
Delicate and lovely. Yet I would look past
Them to the staunch rough bay bushes, the beach
Plum, the salty meadows, gray stones, and the last
Gnarled, stunted tree that bends above the reach
Of long cold waves.


Such flowers are out of place
In this New England country, on this shore.
Incongruous they are, as the first pale face
That looked into the wilderness, walked where
No such righteous feet had walked before,
Who raised tall narrow spires for prayer,
And set a barricade against a door.