Meditation: On Pansies

(Image credit: Apartment Therapy)

To inspire you to notice flowerboxes on your weekend strolls, here’s something from the child poet Hilda Conklin:


(By a Bed of Pansies)

This pansy has a thinking face
Like the yellow moon.
This one has a face with white blots;
I call him the clown.

Here goes one down the grass

With a pretty look of plumpness;

She is a little girl going to school

With her hands in the pockets of her pinafore.

Her name is Sue.

I like this one, in a bonnet,


Her eyes are so deep!

But these on the other side,

These that wear purple and blue,

They are the Velvets,

The king with his cloak,

The queen with her gown,

The prince with his feather.

These are dark and quiet

And stay alone.

I know you, Velvets,

Color of Dark,

Like the pine-tree on the hill

When stars shine!

— Hilda Conkling (1910-1986)


Photo credit: lottie pan via flickr