by Robert Frost (1874 - 1963)

Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers...
Language: English 
Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers today; 
And give us not to think so far away 
As the uncertain harvest; keep us here 
All simply in the springing of the year. 

Oh, gives us pleasure in the orchard white, 
Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night; 
And make us happy in the happy bees, 
The swarm dilating round the perfect trees. 

And make us happing in the darting bird 
That suddenly above the bees is heard, 
The meteor that thrusts in with needle bill, 
And off a blossom in mid-air stands still. 

For this is love and nothing else is love, 
The which it is reversed for God above 
To sanctify to what far ends He will, 
But which it only needs that we fulfill.

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Authorship

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 16
Word count: 128