A Passing Glimpse - Poem by Robert Frost

To Ridgely Torrence 
On last looking into His 'Hesperides'

I often see flowers from a passing car
That are gone before I can tell what they are.

I want to get out of the train and go back
To see what they were beside the track.

I name all the flowers I am sure they weren't;
Not fireweed loving where woods have burnt-

Not Bluebells gracing a tunnel mouth-
Not lupine living on sand and drouth.

Was something brushed across my mind 
That no one on earth will never find?

Heaven gives it glimpses only to those 
Not in position to look too close.

Robert Frost