Some places

Some places where the flower grows,
Where no determined person goes,
I wander on my aimless way.
To such a landscape did I fare
To look at every flower there,
But one -- I plucked from its sway.

I could not tell you why I chose
To pick this flower instead of those,
Only, when I saw it, I thought,
"This one is my favorite flower.
In soft relief, though damp and dour,
It moves me like the rest do not.

If I did not this flower find,
Lost among its nameless kind,
No one would. One might understand,
Or uproot the will to wander,
But to divide me from this wonder --
O lost one! Can you feel my hand?"