WHEN first the Friendship-flower is planted Within the garden of your soul, Little of care or thought is wanted To guard its beauty fresh and whole; But when the full empassioned age Has well revealed the magic bloom, A wise and holy tutelage Alone avoids the open tomb. It is not Absence you should dread, -- For absence is the very air In which, if sound at root, the head Shall wave most wonderful and fair: With sympathies of joy and sorrow Fed, as with morn and even dews, Ideal colouring it may borrow Richer than ever earthly hues. But oft the plant, whose leaves unsere Refresh the desert, hardly brooks The common-peopled atmosphere Of daily thoughts and words and looks; It trembles at the brushing wings Of many a careless fashion-fly, And strange suspicions aim their stings To taint it as they wanton by. Rare is the heart to bear a flower, That must not wholly fall and fade, Where alien feelings, hour by hour, Spring up, beset, and overshade; Better, a child of care and toil, To glorify some needy spot, Than in a glad redundant soil To pine neglected and forgot. Yet when, at last, by human slight, Or close of their permitted day, From the bright world of life and light Such fine creations lapse away, -- Bury the relics that retain Sick odours of departed pride, -- Hoard, as ye will, your memory's gain, But leave the blossoms where they died. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CARPENTER'S SON by SARA TEASDALE GONE by MARY ELIZABETH COLERIDGE AN INTERNATIONAL EPISODE (1889) by CAROLINE KING DUER THE OWL AND THE PUSSY CAT by EDWARD LEAR SUMTER [APRIL 12, 1861] by EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN THE TRANSFORMATION OF A TEXAS GIRL by JAMES BARTON ADAMS |