Page:Moral Pieces in Prose and Verse.pdf/13



THERE rose a plant from shades obscure, Of weak and feeble stem, Its shrinking leaves were closely curl'd,    And pale its infant gem.

And yet, a benefactress kind The lonely stranger ey'd— And lov'd, and watch'd the humble plant, Which few had lov'd beside.

She hid it from the chilling storms, For storms its bloom opprest, And when the wintry blast arose, She warm'd it in her breast.