There is a sweet, tho' humble flower, Which grows in nature's wildest bed; It blossoms in the lonely bower, But withers 'neath the gazer's tread. 'T is rear'd alone, far, far away From the wild noxious weeds of death, Around its brow the sunbeams play, The evening dew-drop is its wreath. 'T is Modesty; 't is nature's child; The loveliest, sweetest, meekest flower That ever blossom'd in the wild, Or trembled'neath the evening shower. 'T is Modesty; so pure, so fair, That woman's witch'ries lovelier grow, When that sweet flower is blooming there, The brightest beauty of her brow. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN THE JEWISH SYNAGOGUE AT NEWPORT by EMMA LAZARUS FRAGMENT ON DEATH by FRANCOIS VILLON TO A MISTRESS DYING by WILLIAM DAVENANT ADVICE by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES ODE SUNG IN THE TOWN HALL, CONCORD, JULY 4, 1857 by RALPH WALDO EMERSON TRANSFORMATIONS by THOMAS HARDY |