Down through the trees is my green walk: It is so narrow there and dark That all the end, that's seen afar, Is a dot of daylight, like a star. When I had walked half-way or more, I saw a pretty, small, blue flower; And, looking closer, I espied A small green stranger at her side. If that flower's sweetheart lives to die A natural death, thought I -- What will have happened by then To a world of ever restless men? 'My little new-born oak,' I said, 'If my soul lives when I am dead, I'll have an hour or more with you Five hundred years from now! When your straight back's so strong that though Your leaves were lead on every bough, It would not break -- I'll think of you When, weak and small, your sweetheart was A little violet in the grass.' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ROAST BEEF OF OLD ENGLAND by HENRY FIELDING CARMEN BELLICOSUM by GUY HUMPHREYS MCMASTER THE SWAMP ANGEL by HERMAN MELVILLE IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 25 by ALFRED TENNYSON THE YEAR OF JUBILEE by HENRY CLAY WORK |