There is no use talking about something new,
When what is old is fresh as any daisy,
A dazzling and a mighty daisy, for instance.
There are instances of daisies which have never come our way;
There are old things, too, which have never reached us.
The old is then dynamite.
The old has many hellos.
The old has in it completely novel Botticellian daisies.
Oh, say more about all the daisies unseen, to honor the old.
Take infinite freshness and make it warm.
What is older than the infinite?
What is newer than an ancient daisy,
A Roman bit of green in a warm morning?
The point has been stated.
The daisy, in a fresh heaven, leans back
And becomes a syllogism not yet made,
A morrow with a tang, a being, an hour, a person, an event,
Of daisied immaculate newness, endless.
© 1956 by Eli Siegel