The world around us contains innumerable small dispensations of this sort, doesn't it?
Imagine this: for the brief time that it blooms, that tiny yellow flower stands at the center of the surface of our spinning globe. The flower is the mid-point: everything else on Earth flows up to it and away from it.
Eliot Hodgkin, "Two Hyacinth Bulbs" (1966)
Flower in the crannied wall,
I pluck you out of the crannies,
I hold you here, root and all, in my hand,
Little flower -- but if I could understand
What you are, root and all, and all in all,
I should know what God and man is.
Alfred Tennyson, The Holy Grail and Other Poems (1870). Tennyson left the poem untitled.
Eliot Hodgkin, "Five Variegated Ivy Leaves" (1960)