O lover Behold this wild flower My solitary gift purple and picked With your first finger and thumb Living now until it withers Showing off in my hair From hair to book pressed and dried From book to frame forever alive On my wall to always remember This is more than enough for me Too much love from you O lover You should know I love Not the flower but the reason My solitary gift passed from Life and roots to death and frame Millions of fingers pluck Millions of flowers each day Only one flower picked by you Only one flower you gave to me This is too much Extravagant O lover My Creator Understands extravagance The Maker of each flower knows If He stepped out of heaven Out of His brilliant glory Into a tiny earth-suit Crossed a field simply to pluck A purple wild-flower To show off in my hair Then left without a word That would be too much Truly extravagant O lover Two thousand years ago ‘If He stepped out of heaven’ became When He walked in an earth-suit here To live thirty-three long years Out of His brilliant glory The blind man sees The rowdy children blessed Zaccheus believes The naked are dressed O lover What is more He righted my wrongs Bleached my filth white Became a sight so vile The Father would not look The Creator beaten-bloody By creation He gave up His life that I might Have Life Extravagant This is too much O lover If I am wooed by your flower…