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JEWEL-WEED
Thine only, these, thou lonely road!
Though hands that take, and naught restore,
Rob thee of other treasured things,
Thine these are, for
A fairy, cradled in each bloom,
To all who pass the charmèd spot
Whispers in warning: "Friend, admire,—
But touch me not!
"Leave me to blossom where I sprung,
A joy untarnished shall I seem;
Pluck me, and you dispel the charm
And blur the dream!"
