Flower In The Crannied Wall


Flower in the crannied wall,
I pluck you out of the crannies,
I hold you here, root and all, in my hand,
Little flower–but if I could understand
What you are, root and all, and all in all,
I should know what God and man is. 


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Return to the Alfred Lord Tennyson Home Page, or . . . Read the next poem; Forlorn

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