Poems (Rossetti, 1901)/Buds and Babies
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BUDS AND BABIES.
A MILLION buds are born that never blow,
That sweet with promise lift a pretty head
To blush and wither on a barren bed
And leave no fruit to show.
That sweet with promise lift a pretty head
To blush and wither on a barren bed
And leave no fruit to show.
Sweet, unfulfilled. Yet have I understood
One joy, by their fragility made plain:
Nothing was ever beautiful in vain,
Or all in vain was good.
One joy, by their fragility made plain:
Nothing was ever beautiful in vain,
Or all in vain was good.