Childhood songs / by Lucy Larcom [electronic text]

RED SANDWORT.

TIS a little roadside flower, Glad of leave to live an hour, Just to wonder and to doubt What the world can be about.

Tiniest rosy-purple stars Strewn beneath the pasture-bars, Or along the path, so small, Few perceive a flower at all.

Burning sand and burning sun This small blossom loves as one; Well content in drawing thence One short hour of light intense.

Opal rays it gathers up In its tinted baby-cup, Drinks and gives its draught of sun, Then its pleasant life is done.

Opals are but sand refined; These are gems,—a simpler kind; All the light around they fling, That can fill so small a thing.

Pretty sand-stars! ye have wrought Round our feet a mesh of thought,— Clinging to the wagon's track,— Finding there nor loss nor lack,—

Happy in your patch of sand As the rose in gardens grand;— Happier, since a spot so bare Feels your life, your tints can wear.

Just to live is joy enough, Though where roads are dull and rough. Fill your cup and share it! can More be done by flower or man?