 | The poetical works of Lucy Larcom |  |
PURPLE SANDWORT.
'T is a little roadside flower,
Glad of leave to live an hour,
Just to wonder and to doubt
What the world can be about.
Glad of leave to live an hour,
Just to wonder and to doubt
What the world can be about.
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Tiniest rosy-purple stars
Strewn beneath the pasture-bars,
Or along the path, so small,
Few perceive a flower at all.
Strewn beneath the pasture-bars,
Or along the path, so small,
Few perceive a flower at all.
Burning sand and burning sun
This small blossom loves as one;
Well content in drawing thence
One short hour of light intense.
This small blossom loves as one;
Well content in drawing thence
One short hour of light intense.
Opal rays it gathers up
In its tinted baby-cup,
Drinks and gives its draught of sun,
Then its pleasant life is done.
In its tinted baby-cup,
Drinks and gives its draught of sun,
Then its pleasant life is done.
Opals are but sand refined;
These are gems,—a simpler kind;
All the light around they fling,
That can fill so small a thing.
These are gems,—a simpler kind;
All the light around they fling,
That can fill so small a thing.
Pretty sand-stars! ye have wrought
Round our feet a mesh of thought:
Clinging to the wagon's track,
Finding there nor loss nor lack:
Round our feet a mesh of thought:
Clinging to the wagon's track,
Finding there nor loss nor lack:
Happy in your patch of sand
As the rose in gardens grand;
Happier, since a spot so bare
Feels your life, your tints can wear.
As the rose in gardens grand;
Happier, since a spot so bare
Feels your life, your tints can wear.
Just to live is joy enough,
Though where roads are dull and rough.
Fill your cup and share it! can
More be done by flower or man?
Though where roads are dull and rough.
Fill your cup and share it! can
More be done by flower or man?
| The poetical works of Lucy Larcom | |