There is a sweet, tho' humble flower, Which grows in nature's wildest bed; It blossoms in the lonely bower, But withers 'neath the gazer's tread. 'T is rear'd alone, far, far away From the wild noxious weeds of death, Around its brow the sunbeams play, The evening dew-drop is its wreath. 'T is Modesty; 't is nature's child; The loveliest, sweetest, meekest flower That ever blossom'd in the wild, Or trembled'neath the evening shower. 'T is Modesty; so pure, so fair, That woman's witch'ries lovelier grow, When that sweet flower is blooming there, The brightest beauty of her brow. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A MUSICAL INSTRUMENT by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING HYMN OF THE EARTH by WILLIAM ELLERY CHANNING (1817-1901) DARK ROSALEEN by TOMAS COSTELLO ODE TO THE MAGUIRE by EOCHADH O'HUSSEY SUNDAY UP THE RIVER: 15 by JAMES THOMSON (1834-1882) LEXINGTON; 1775 by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER |