National Poetry Month/And bow to everything

To celebrate the season of rebirth and renewal, a poem from Emily Dickinson and a piece from the series with the flower that heralds spring in our garden—the scilla. In the poem she speaks of the "simple green" of grass. I've been thinking about green lately in regard to my photos of scilla. It's a lesson in the difference between what the eye and the camera see. When I look at the scilla under shrubs and trees, my eye sees predominately blue but the camera shows me blue in a carpet of green.

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The Grass so little has to do –
A Sphere of simple Green –
With only Butterflies to brood
And Bees to entertain –

And stir all day to pretty Tunes
The Breezes fetch along –
And hold the Sunshine in its lap
And bow to everything –

And thread the Dews, all night, like Pearls –
And make itself so fine
A Duchess were too common
For such a noticing –

And even when it dies – to pass
In Odors so divine –
Like Lowly spices, lain to sleep –
Or Spikenards, perishing –

And then, in Sovereign Barns to dwell –
And dream the Days away,
The Grass so little has to do
I wish I were a Hay –