OUR sweet autumnal western-scented wind Robs of its odors none so sweet a flower, In all the blooming waste it left behind, As that the sweetbrier yields it. And the shower Wets not a rose that buds in beauty's bower One half so lovely, --yet it grows along The poor girl's pathway--by the poor man's door. Such are the simple folks it dwells among: And humble as the bud, so humble be the song. I love it, for it takes its untouched stand Not in the vase that sculptors decorate, Its sweetness all is of my native land, And e'en its fragrant leaf has not its mate Among the perfumes which the rich and great Buy from the odors of the spicy east. You love your flowers and plants-- and will you hate The little four-leaved rose that I love best, That freshest will awake, and sweetest go to rest? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A DIRGE (1) by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS CUBA LIBRA [APRIL, 1896] by CINCINNATUS HEINE MILLER EUTERPE by LUCIUS MORRIS BEEBE NEW THINGS ARE BEST by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT JACK FROST AND THE CATY-DID by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD |