CLOSE in the hedge a Violet bloom’d
Upon its native stem,
Deck’d with a dewy drop more bright
Than India’s brightest gem.
But ill was this fair flower content
To blossom in the shade,
And droop’d with envy of the flowers
That deck’d the sunny glade.
“Why am I here, unseen, unknown,
‘Mid weeds and nettles planted,
While still to bloom on sunny banks
To other flowers is granted?
Would I were yonder Cowslip bright,
In open fields to bide,
Or e’en the pretty Pimpernel
That decks the path-way side.”
‘Twas so the Violet complained,
And mourn’d her lot obscure,
And look’d with envy all the day
On each surrounding flower.
But so it was at even-tide,
That some one came that road,
Pick’d the poor Cowslip from its stem,
And scatter’d it abroad.
And ’twas not long ere one in haste,
With rude and careless bound,
Passed o’er the pretty Pimpernel,
And crush’d it to the ground.
The Violet saw, and haply learn’d,
Not her’s the sadder lot,
Whom fortune destines to abide
Where others mark her not.
Distinction’s path is hard beset
With danger and with wrong,
More blessed to whom obscurity
And gentle peace belong.
She is too bold who fondly sighs
To try the sunny glade,
Others beside the Violet
Are safest in the shade.
(Caroline Fry)
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Based on Topics: Flowers Poems, Haste PoemsBased on Keywords: even-tide, pimpernel, path-way, destines