silken thread

O Lady, leave thy silken thread 
And flowery tapestrie: 
There's living roses on the bush, 
And blossoms on the tree; 
Stoop where thou wilt, thy careless hand 
Some random bud will meet; 
Thou canst not tread, but thou wilt find 
The daisy at thy feet. 
'Tis like the birthday of the world, 
When earth was born in bloom; 
The light is made of many dyes, 
The air is all perfume; 
There's crimson buds, and white and blue— 
The very rainbow showers 
Have turn'd to blossoms where they fell, 
And sown the earth with flowers. 
There's fairy tulips in the east, 
The garden of the sun; 
The very streams reflect the hues, 
And blossom as they run: 
While Morn opes like a crimson rose, 
Still wet with pearly showers; 
Then, lady, leave the silken thread 
Thou twinest into flowers! 
Thomas Hood

No roses, blossoms or buds today, but here's some Sylko loveliness :-)