White Iris I (The South wind snows the apple blossoms down)

The South wind snows the apple blossoms down And scatters on the grass the petals white; The sky turns azure from its faint spring gray, And all the woods put on their summer green; Fresh is the air with ecstasy new born; And by the garden wall whose old gray stones Show purple where the netted sunlight falls, White Iris now her oriflame unfurls. Beneath that emblem who would not enroll? For this is beauty's banner blown afar To signal how it fares with Earth's deep heart, Breeding her fancies to perfection still And bringing them in loveliness to birth, According to the ordered thought triune.