Bliss Carman, et al., eds. The World’s Best Poetry. 1904.
V. Trees: Flowers: PlantsTrailing Arbutus
Rose Terry Cooke (18271892)D
Blossoming, alone,
When Earth’s grief is sorest
For her jewels gone—
Ere the last snow-drift melts, your tender buds have blown.
Like the morning sky,
Or, more pale and saintly,
Wrapped in leaves ye lie—
Even as children sleep in faith’s simplicity.
Hymns your solitude;
And the rain comes sobbing
Through the budding wood,
While the low south wind sighs, but dare not be more rude.
Out of air and dew,
Starlight unimpassioned,
Dawn’s most tender hue,
And scented by the woods that gathered sweets for you?
From the world apart;
Made for beauty only,
Veiled from Nature’s heart
With such unconscious grace as makes the dream of Art!
An immortal shade,
Then would I to-morrow
Such a flower be made,
And live in the dear woods where my lost childhood played.