A FLOWER was growing alone,
Then alone and for ever alone:
Some one came by,
Saw the flower how fair it had grown,
Chose it, plucked it to die.
And what is a flower alone,
Then alone and for ever alone,
Come no one by?
Why should a flower be fair for its own?
Choose it, pluck it to die.
More verses by Augusta Davies Webster
- Where Home Was
- Young May Sat Fainting And Chill
- The Missing Star
- Yu-Pe-Ya’s Dirge For Tse-Ky
- My Loss