Poems (Davidson)/Modesty

by Lucretia Maria Davidson

MODESTY.

There is a sweet, though humble flower,
 Which grows in nature's wildest bed;
It blossoms in the lonely bower,
 But withers 'neath the gazer's tread.

'Tis reared alone, far, far away
 From the wild noxious weeds of death;
Around its brow the sunbeams play,
 The evening dew-drop is its wreath.

'Tis Modesty; 'tis Nature's child;
 The loveliest, sweetest, meekest flower
That ever blossomed in the wild,
 Or trembled 'neath the evening shower.

'Tis Modesty; so pure, so fair,
 That woman's witcheries lovelier grow,
When that sweet flower is blooming there,
 The brightest beauty of her brow.