Poetry Index

Fulfillment

I grew a rose once more to please mine eyes.
All things to aid it, dew, sun, wind, fair skies
Were kindly; and to shield it from despoil,
I fenced it safely in with grateful toil.
No other hand than mine shall pluck this flower said I,
And I was jealous of the bee that hovered nigh.

It grew for days, I stood hour after hour
To watch the slow unfolding of the flow'r.
And then I did not leave its side at all,
Lest some mischance, my flower should befall.
At last, oh joy! the central petals burst apart.
It blossomed--but, alas! a worm was at its heart!

This poem appears in the following book(s):