A MILLION buds are born that never blow, That sweet with promise lift a pretty head To blush and wither on a barren bed And leave no fruit to show. Sweet, unfulfilled. Yet have I understood One joy, by their fragility made plain: Nothing was ever beautiful in vain, Or all in vain was good. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHAT I'VE BELIEVED IN by JAMES GALVIN DOMESDAY BOOK: JANE FISHER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DOMESDAY BOOK: REV. PERCY FERGUSON by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE NEW APOCRYPHA: BERENICE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE DARK HOUSE by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |