THE ORCHIDS

Freaks of bright crystal, airy beauties
Whose enigmatic forms amaze the eye—
Crowns fit to deck Apollo's brows on high,
Adornments meet for halls of splendor rare!

They spring from knots in tree-trunks, rising there
In sweet gradation; winding wondrously,
They twist their serpent stems, and far and nigh
Hang overhead like wingless birds in air.

Lonely, like pensive heads, all fetterless,
Lofty and free they bloom; by no dull chain
Their flowers to any tyrant root are bound;

Because, they too, at war with pettiness,
Desire to live, like souls that know no stain,
Without one touch of contact with the ground.