It is not surprising that in the language of flowers, bird of paradise means magnificence—they are showy splendid specimens! Although I am not usually drawn to them, they make a wonderful addition to large table displays, towering over—as if they are watching over—the other more petite flowers. And their exotic flair makes me dream of balmy tropical locals. This time of the year, the warm orange colors of bird of paradise are so welcome—as is this magnificent poem.
Paradise: In a Symbol
By Christina Rossetti
Golden-winged, silver-winged,
Winged with flashing flame,
Such a flight of birds I saw,
Birds without a name:
Singing songs in their own tongue
(Song of songs) they came.
One to another calling,
Each answering each,
One to another calling
In their proper speech:
High above my head they wheeled,
Far out of reach.
On wings of flame they went and came
With a cadenced clang,
Their silver wings tinkled,
Their golden wings rang,
The wind it whistled through their wings
Where in Heaven they sang.
They flashed and they darted
Awhile before mine eyes,
Mounting, mounting, mounting still
In haste to scale the skies—
Birds without a nest on earth,
Birds of Paradise.
Where the moon riseth not,
Nor sun seeks the west,
There to sing their glory
Which they sing at rest,
There to sing their love-song
When they sing their best:
Not in any garden
That mortal foot hath trod,
Not in any flowering tree
That springs from earthly sod,
But in the garden where they dwell,
The Paradise of God.
XOXO Rachel