Poem by Augusta Webster

The Flower by the Path

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.

1. Young May Sat Fainting and Chill
2. She Has Made Me Wayside Posies
3. Choosing
4. Hark the Sky-Lark in the Cloud
5. 'Tis Hard

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