Page:Poems, Volume 1, Coates, 1916.djvu/236

214 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!"