I did not see the iris move...

Iris xiphium
Pierre-Joseph Redouté

...This was the sequence of the flower:
First the leaf from which the bud would swell,
No prison, but a cell,
A rolled rainbow;
Then the sheath that enclosed the blow
Pale and close
Giving no hint of the blaze within,
A tender skin with violet vein.
Then the first unfurling petal
As if a hand that held a jewel
Curled back a finger, let the light wink
Narrowly through the chink,
Or like the rays before sunrise
Promising glory.

And while my back is turned, the flower has blown.
Impossible to tell
How this opulent blossom from that spick bud has grown.
The chrysalis curled tight,
The flower poised for flight -
Corolla with lolling porphyry wings
And yellow tiger markings
A chasing-place for shade and light:
Between these two, the explosion
Soundless, with no duration
(I did not see the iris move,
I did not feel my love unfurl.)
The most tremendous change takes place in silence,
Unseen, however you mark the sequence,
Unheard, whatever the din of exploding stars.

Extract from:
A Matter of Life and Death
Anne Ridler (1959)

*****

I found this in a slim book
on the shelves of my favourite bookshop.

Anne Ridler (1912 - 2001) came from a literary family
and married Vivian Ridler, publisher.
She was a friend of C.S. Lewis and influenced by T.S. Eliot
with whom she worked at Faber and Faber.

She is not a well known poet today
but the subdued elegance of her writing appeals to me
and gives me much to think about.