The speaker seems caught between the living world and recollection. Addressing leaves—“Leaves, what are you?”—and saying that “Flowers feed on me,” he casts himself as a source the blooms draw life from. The flowers become markers of places and feelings: a red-and-white “Magnificent” in Rome, a “Passion” in Tuscany, a blue orchid in Paris that he once watered with tears in a dark, earth-smelling room. The poem moves by association, so the flowers feel less like garden specimens than like memories rooted in him.
The closing image deepens the dreamlike mood: cactus flowers unfolding on a violet hill near three nuns in enormous hats, “poised on a rock like gulls or ships that sail / To Africa.” It’s strange, still, and faintly visionary. The tone is quiet and nostalgic, with an undertone of longing or grief, as though these night-blooming recollections are beautiful but also consume the speaker.