I once did find a distant mead,
quite hidden where the woods recede.
It was remote from pasture land.
Was it forgot, or maybe planned
to leave a spot where flowers grew,
with hidden lessons to pursue?
The grass was thick and rich in bloom,
and verity, and rare perfume.
The garden that I stumbled on,
knew secret truths of time foregone,
a single page of youth's sweet tale,
where lasting beauty might prevail,
and need and grace could coexist,
though hard to find and easily missed.
And I would leave the blooms in peace,
for someone else to find release.
For who's to know, some other day,
another soul might pass this way,
and rightly pause to mark the hour,
the wisdom of a woodland flower.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Barry, I made sure to add this profound piece to my poem list first before commenting, because I want to reread it! ! ! ! This is a wonderful poem, reminds me of one of my very favourite poems, 'A Tuft Of Flowers', by Frost! !
I drew inspiration from Frost's poem but the meadow I speak of is real as is my reaction. I find much kinship with Frost. I am very happy that it touched you so. Thank you.