Behold October’s final garden flower:
defying frost, contrast with autumn’s umber,
Upright it stands in fading daylight hour,
Refusing to submit to winter slumber.
You foolish daisy, clueless to the season!
Why cling to summer, pine for yesterday?
This late warm spell, soon finished, is no reason
To protest the embrace of sure decay.
Yet are we also not by death surrounded,
Our hope and joy absurd to some, but brave—
So rooted in a soil of life unbounded
Whose Finest Bloom has sprung from darkest grave?
Deemed foolish by the world his praise we sing
And serve as heralds for the coming spring.