In Bloom: The Evening Primrose (Oenothera biennis )

We heard of it through a friend of a friend. A hurried call was made and a plan formulated to meet in the friend's garden at twilight...

When once the sun sinks in the west,

We gathered, old and young, around the small plot of soil and stared uncomprehendingly at the tall, weedy stalks. The children fidgeted with the tight buds while the adults spoke of the heat and “no rain”.

And dewdrops pearl the evening's breast;

Almost as pale as moonbeams are,

Or its companionable star,

Our friend, the gardener, murmured softly, “There's one”.

The evening primrose opens anew

And we watched incredulously, exclaiming, wondering, as bloom after bloom unfolded...in front of our eyes.

Its delicate blossoms to the dew;

And, hermit-like, shunning the light,

Wastes its fair bloom upon the night,

Who, blindfold to its fond caresses,

Knows not the beauty it possesses;

Thus it blooms on while night is by;

When day looks out with open eye,

Bashed at the gaze it cannot shun,

It faints and withers and is gone.

(The Evening Primrose by John Clare, English Poet, 1793-1864)