SHE sowed a seed of Sorrow in the earth, And watered it with tears, with bitter tears! And then she turned her to her daily tasks And set her face toward the coming years! She could not stop to nurture it, nor tend, Nor even watch its growth, unless she drew Her time and strength away from all the cares That each day brought—yet strong and straight it grew! Frost did not kill nor hot suns wither it, And it became, as years went by, a tree! And passers-by would gather at her door, For all its blossoms, they were fair to see! And they would rest a while beneath its shade, And rise refreshed at last—rejoiced that they Who journeyed wearily along the road Had found the tree she planted by the way! And oft she heard them murmur, as they went, A blessing on the planter of the tree! But they—they called it by another name— They said it was the tree of Sympathy! |