E. M. Forster on Two Kinds of Flower Arrangements
One kind thrusts its virtues to the sky,
trusts the sun enough to open up
despite the wind and rainy weather,
the higher, the better, the bigger,
too: pistil, stamen, petal, sepal,
bract all tacked on to the ends of stems.
And who supposes roses to do
otherwise? Gaudy, showy, oozing
confidence in the garden, along
the fence. But in hedges and under
edges of beds and woods, another
kind emerges. More discrete, it climbs
up the stem just like a leaf will tend
to do, and gladly, too. The way they
dot the field and garden plot appears
to be an afterthought, supporting
cast at best, though equally blessed by
the sun, the one true star hour by hour.