The beauty a flower-land hath.






REMEDIAL

Well it has come and has gone,
I have some pride, you the same;
You will scarce put willow on,
I will have buried a name.

A stone, "Hic Jacet"--no more;
Let the world wonder at will;
You have the key to the door,
I have the cenotaph still.

A tear--one tear, is it much,
Dropped on a desert of pain?
Had you one passionate touch
Of Nature there had been rain.

Purpose, oh no, there was none!
You could not know if you would;
You were the innocent one.
Malice? Nay, you were too good.

Hearts should not be in your way,