IN the bedchamber window, near the glass, Stood the little flower in the little vase, Unnoticed quite For a whole fortnight, And withered for lack of watering To a skeleton mere -- a mummied thing. But it was not much, mid a world of teen, That a flower should waste in a nook unseen! One needed no thought to ascertain How it happened; that when she went in the rain To return here not, She was mindless what She had left here to perish. -- Ah, well: for an hour I wished I had not found the flower! Yet it was not much. And she never had known Of the flower's fate; nor it of her own. |