Poems (Lambert)/The Crushed Flower

by Mary Eliza Perine Tucker Lambert

THE CRUSHED FLOWER.

AS through earth's garden once I strayed
 I saw a rose tree fair—
And from it plucked an opening bud
 In all its beauty rare.

I gazed deep in its heart of hearts—
 It blushed beneath my eye;
While its faint fragrance seemed to breathe
 A gentle, unheard sigh.

'Twas mine alone! I cherished it—
 My frail and lovely flower!
Until another bud I found,
 More beauteous, in an hour.

Then with relentless hand I broke
 The floweret's fragile stem:
I spoiled the gem that would have graced
 A monarch's diadem!

But stern remorse soon touched my heart,—
 Back to the spot I rushed.
Alas! too late; my flower was there,
 But its poor heart was crushed!