THE CRUSHED FLOWER.
AS through earth's garden once I strayed
I saw a rose tree fair--
And from it plucked an opening bud,
In all its beauty rare.
I gazed deep in its heart of hearts--
It blushed beneath my eye;
While its faint fragrance seemed to breath
A gentle, unheard sigh.
'Twas mine alone! I cherished it--
My frail and lovely flower!
Until another bud I found,
More beauteous, in an hour.
Then with relentless hand I broke
The floweret's fragile stem:
I spoiled the gem that would have graced
A monarch's diadem!
But stern remorse soon touched my heart,--
Back to the spot I rushed.
Alas! too late; my flower was there,
But its poor heart was crushed!