DOWN in a marsh by the water's brink I found a bloom of the palest pink; And I watched it close and loved it well, For it touched my heart with a mystic spell. Till at last I plucked the flower fair And bore it home, and summoned there A friend, to give me its proper name, Where it lived and its right to fame. He told me then. But it sounded harsh; In my ignorance by the lonesome marsh I had called it @3Child-of-my-Soul@1, and smiled To think of its beauty growing wild. @3He told me more; but every word Was wisdom such as I wished unheard.@1 |