Poems (Davidson)/Modesty
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 flowerThat 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.