Poems (Charlotte Allen)/The Slighted Gift

by Charlotte Allen

THE SLIGHTED GIFT.

I had a little fresh blown Rose,
 One bud beside it grew,
The pale Syringa with it twined,
 A sweetened fragrance threw.

A sprig of myrtle I had culled
 To grace the small boquet,
Then gently tied a ribbon round,
 As I pursued my way.

I met a friend and offered her
 These gems from nature's breast,
She took them with a heartless smile,
 A moment them caressed.

I saw my gift was lightly prized,
 And trembled for its fate;
She coldly twirled them in her hand,
 My fears did not abate.

—One moment more—the nosegay lay
 Despoiled upon the ground;
My cherished flowers were torn apart,
 Their leaves all strewn around.

Oh, if not for the giver's sake
 The offering thou didst prize,
Say, could it have no stronger claim
 Upon thy heart, thine eyes?

Who formed the little flowers I gave,
 And called them into birth,
Investing them with fragrancy,
 Was it some hand on earth?

Oh, no, thy Maker's sacred power,
 My humble offering wrought,
And love for thy Creator's works
 More reverence should have taught.

I never gaze upon a flower,
 The smallest that I see,
But seems to whisper to my heart
 I came from Deity.