 | Love-Sonnets |  |
26
XVIII.
[The rifled riches of some flowery mead]
The rifled riches of some flowery meadStrewn by the roadside, scorned and castaway;
A bird's nest, pilfered on a holiday,
Its blue eggs broken, left with little heed;—
Such things have ever made my heart to bleed,
Nay, I have oft stood still in mute dismay,
As o'er a young life's ruins, prone to say
Had he a mother once who did this deed?
Ah cruel longing changed for crueller scorn:
Ah tears despised and modesty defaced
By ruthless wanton cruelty and waste:
From matron shame the virgin sweetness torn
To die at leisure having loved in haste;
And beauty blighted ere it could be born.
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