 | Jones Very : The Complete Poems |  |
The Solitary Gentian
I searched the meadow far around,
Where once the Gentian grew;
And but a single flower I found,
With its dark, purple hue.
Where once the Gentian grew;
And but a single flower I found,
With its dark, purple hue.
Nor summer suns, nor latter rain
Can now their life restore;
Beside the brook I search in vain,
There they are seen no more!
Can now their life restore;
Beside the brook I search in vain,
There they are seen no more!
Man gathered, with unsparing hand,
Their beauty, and their bloom;
Nor dreamed he robbed the generous land,
And sealed the fair flower's doom.
Their beauty, and their bloom;
Nor dreamed he robbed the generous land,
And sealed the fair flower's doom.
Nor seed, nor even roots, were left,
New flowers again to yield;
Of all its beauty was bereft
The lovely meadow field.
New flowers again to yield;
Of all its beauty was bereft
The lovely meadow field.
A single, solitary flower
Yet lingered in the place;
The last to deck bright Autumn's bower,
The last of all its race!
Yet lingered in the place;
The last to deck bright Autumn's bower,
The last of all its race!
The meadow mourns its darlings' fate,
And I, in plaintive song,
Would still to years of distant date
Their memory prolong.
And I, in plaintive song,
Would still to years of distant date
Their memory prolong.
Poem No. 265; c. 13 October 1874
| Jones Very : The Complete Poems | |