Buds and Babiesby Christina Rossetti
A million buds are born that never blow,That sweet with promise lift a pretty headTo blush and wither on a barren bedAnd leave no fruit to show.
Sweet, unfulfilled. Yet have I understoodOne joy, by their fragility made plain:
Nothing was ever beautiful in vain,
Or all in vain was good.
Lady In Blue
4 years ago