To The Bee Balm

By John Burroughs

Unmoved I saw you blooming,
Your crimson cap uplooming
Above the jewel weed;
‘T is true I passed unheeding,
Unmindful of your pleading,
Until she gave you heed.
But when she paused and plucked you,
And in her bosom tucked you,
And filled her girlish hands,
New beauty filled your measure,
You shone a woodland treasure
Amid the floral clans.
Your martial look grew tender,
More winsome was your splendor
With her beside the stream;
Rare gift to charm she brought you,
With her own graces fraught you,
Retouched your glowing beam.
I soon forgot my trouting,
Repented of my flouting
Your brave and festive look;
I saw in you new meaning,
A nodding or a leaning
Beside the purling brook

Oh, day I long shall cherish,
Nor let one vision perish
That filled each sunny hour.
The phoebe’s mossy chamber,
The pool like liquid amber,
That mirrored maid and flower.

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