FROM the old roots of love, Hidden in mold away, Again there pushes forth A tall and budded spray; Soon to come to bloom In flowers long denied, Soon to shine by the road With petals opened wide, Soon to sway and shine For every passing bee... Quickly break the stalk Lest anyone should see! Tramp the green thing down Before it comes to flower; Tread it deep in the grass, It shall not have its hour!... From the old roots of love, Hidden in mold away, Again there pushes forth A tall and budded spray... |