Hast singed thy pretty wings, poor moth?
Fret not; some moths there be
That wander all the weary night,
Longing in vain to see
The light.
Hast felt the scorching flame, poor heart?
Grieve not; some hearts exist
That know not, grow not to be strong,
And weep not, having missed
The song.
(Helena Coleman)
More Poetry from Helena Coleman:
Helena Coleman Poems based on Topics: Light, Night, Sadness- Prairie Winds (Helena Coleman Poems)
- Indian Summer (Helena Coleman Poems)
- To A Bluebell (Helena Coleman Poems)
- More Lovely Grows The Earth (Helena Coleman Poems)
- Vanished Years (Helena Coleman Poems)
- Enlargement (Helena Coleman Poems)