Moral Pieces, in Prose and Verse/A Tribute
MORAL PIECES.
A TRIBUTE.
THERE rose a plant from shades obscure,
Of weak and feeble stem,
Its shrinking leaves were closely curl'd,
And pale its infant gem.
And yet, a benefactress kind
The lonely stranger ey'd—
And lov'd, and watch'd the humble plant,
Which few had lov'd beside.
She hid it from the chilling storms,
For storms its bloom opprest,
And when the wintry blast arose,
She warm'd it in her breast.
With glance of tearful joy, she view'd
Its promis'd verdure rise;
And oft its drooping buds she rais'd,
To point them to the skies.
But as she cherish'd it, a hand
Remov'd her hence away;
And sick'ning on her lowly tomb
The broken flow'ret lay.
It rose—to seek the ray serene,
The star of mercy threw;
It rose on life's eventful scene,
To feel and tremble too.
Yet some have fenc'd it from the blast,
And from the wintry air,
And deign'd—tho' undeserv'd their smile,
To shelter it with care.
Yes—they have cheer'd it:—they have sought
To see its branches grow;
And have not scorn'd it,—though its stalk
Was unadorn'd and low.
And if the fragrance of the skies
Should to its buds be given,
That fragrance shall to these arise,
To virtue, and to heaven.