A Child of the People And Other Poems. By James Chapman Woods |
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THE FATE OF A FLOWER. |
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 | A Child of the People |  |
116
THE FATE OF A FLOWER.
Drawn downward with the stream, the water-lily
Tugged at its roots in vain.
“Cruel to hold me here in dank shades stilly,
Who have yonder all to gain!
My glorious flower would win men's praise and wonder,
Long palled with blacks and browns,
Might I but float where silver waters sunder
The wharves of crowded towns;
And ah, beyond where cloud and wave have meeting,
Through dreamful afternoons,
Broad beds of golden blossoms till my greeting
Furl close their bursting moons!”
Tugged at its roots in vain.
“Cruel to hold me here in dank shades stilly,
Who have yonder all to gain!
My glorious flower would win men's praise and wonder,
Long palled with blacks and browns,
Might I but float where silver waters sunder
The wharves of crowded towns;
And ah, beyond where cloud and wave have meeting,
Through dreamful afternoons,
Broad beds of golden blossoms till my greeting
Furl close their bursting moons!”
“Fair fool,” the roots, rough foster-mother, scolded,—
“Be glad we know your place;
Your pollen-powdered crest was never moulded
For greatness, but for grace:
The river-filth would soon your gold bespatter;
Men eye their gold at home,
And the first cloud-caressing wave would shatter
Your flimsy leaves to foam!”
“Be glad we know your place;
Your pollen-powdered crest was never moulded
For greatness, but for grace:
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Men eye their gold at home,
And the first cloud-caressing wave would shatter
Your flimsy leaves to foam!”
No words might fright the lily from its visions,
Till with the stream it stole
Toward the strange sea.
So ever great ambitions
Ruin a little soul!
Till with the stream it stole
Toward the strange sea.
So ever great ambitions
Ruin a little soul!
| A Child of the People | |