Later Poems / by Bliss Carman [electronic text]

Peony

"Pionia virtutem habet occultam."
Arnoldus Villanova.—1235-1313

ARNOLDUS Villanova Six hundred years ago Said Peonies have magic, And I believe it so. There stands his learned dictumWhich any boy may read, But he who learns the secret Will be made wise indeed.

Astrologer and doctor In the science of his day, Have we so far outstripped him? What more is there to say? His medieval Latin Records the truth for us, Which I translate —virtutem Habet occultam —thus:

She hath a deep-hid virtue No other flower hath. When summer comes rejoicing A-down my garden path,

In opulence of color, In robe of satin sheen, She casts o'er all the hours Her sorcery serene.

A subtile, heartening fragrance Comes piercing the warm hush, And from the greening woodland I hear the first wild thrush. They move my heart to pity For all the vanished years, With ecstasy of longing And tenderness of tears.

By many names we call her,— Pale exquisite Aurore, Luxuriant Gismonda Or sunny Couronne D'Or. What matter,—Grandiflora, A queen in some proud book, Or sweet familiar Piny With her old-fashioned look?

The crowding Apple blossoms Above the orchard wall; The Moonflower in August When eerie nights befall; Chrysanthemum in autumn, Whose pageantries appear

With mystery and silence To deck the dying year;

And many a mystic flower Of the wildwood I have known, But Pionia Arnoldi Hath a transport all her own. For Peony, my Peony,Hath strength to make me whole, — She gives her heart of beauty For the healing of my soul.

Arnoldus Villanova, Though earth is growing old, As long as life has longing Your guess at truth will hold. Still works the hidden power After a thousand springs,— The medicine for heartache That lurks in lovely things.