Impressions: A Book of Verse/A Misunderstanding
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A MISUNDERSTANDING
THE flower of friendship has been touched by frost,
And think you it can ever bloom again,
Waking from its cold sleep with struggling pain
To raise its drooping head, all tempest-tost,
And win back its rich hue faded and lost?
Alas, your tears and kisses all are vain!
The hapless flower that your neglect hath slain
Shall wake no more to count life's bitter cost.
No! Let it fall upon earth's pitying breast,
Dead leaves of hope heaped high above its head!
So dear it was that I no tears can shed
Nor dare to look upon its place of rest.
You can shed tears, and I thus cruel seem,
Since 't was my life and but your idle dream!