Bulb Planting Time
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by Edgar Guest
Last night he said the dead were dead And scoffed my faith to scorn; I found him at a tulip bed When I passed by at morn. "O ho!" said I, "the frost is near And mist is on the hills, And yet I find you planting here Tulips and daffodils." "'Tis time to plant them now," he said, "If they shall bloom in Spring"; "But every bulb," said I, "seems dead, And such an ugly thing." "The pulse of life I cannot feel, The skin is dried and brown. Now look!" a bulb beneath my heel I crushed and trampled down. In anger then he said to me: "You've killed a lovely thing; A scarlet blossom that would be Some morning in the Spring." "Last night a greater sin was thine," To him I slowly said; "You trampled on the dead of mine And told me they are dead."