Poems (Coates 1916)/Volume II/The Child and the Heart Bereft

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THE CHILD AND THE HEART BEREFT

MY garden, long time desolate,
Were still of pleasure reft and bare
But for one single, lonely bloom
That would insist on flowering there.


A fragile thing, in that chill place
It grew where other joys were not,
Waxing a lovelier hope each day,—
Albeit half tended, half forgot,—


Until with wild, resistless charm
That sorrow's very self doth cheat,
It maketh of my desert drear
A sunlit garden, fresh and sweet.