Poetry Month

Flower in the Crannied Wall
by Alfred Tennyson

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.

Wasn't Tennyson knighted? What happened to "Lord"?

And I'd love to hold a little flower in my hand. Any time. Are you listening, Spring?