Lydia Howard Sigourney

1791-1865.

 

The Fallen Rose

by Lydia Howard Sigourney

A rose was gather'd from the bower,
Where lovingly it grew,
By summer's genial sunbeam cheer'd
And fed with dew.

Who pluck'd it from its home away?
A thoughtless passer-by?
A vengeful heart on evil bent?
An envious eye?

Who broke the stalk? Methought a voice
Spake tenderly and low,
No careless hand this deed hath wrought,
No cruel foe:

The florist. who the plant had rear'd,
Set on the flower his seal,
He sows the seed to reap the fruit,
He wounds to heal.

Source:

The Weeping Willow
Copyright 1847
Henry S. Parsons, Hartford.
 
Link To This Page