William Herbert Carruth

Flower and Song

I.

I dug a little flower
   From out the forest-shade,
And set it in my garden
   Where light and sunshine played.

I went to watch it daily,
   I tended it with care,
And Said: "With this no other
   Shall ever dare compare."

And yet it slowly withered
   Beneath the cheerful sun,
And died there in my garden
   Before a week was done.

II.

I took a little fancy
   From out my tangled brain,
And set it to the music
   Of an old-time, sweet refrain.

I decked in out in figures,
   I nursed it with fine words,
And said: "My little songlet
   Shall be sung by all the birds."

Its spirit waned and vanished
   Beneath its wordy weight,
And it died with all its music,
   And met the flower's fate.