One day when browsing through printed page
In musty volume- of noble age
Long prest upon the pages there
-I came upon a flower fair;
It lay flattened, faded, fragile, pale,
That bloom once plucked from sunlit dale;
How many years had come and gone
-Since on its petals soft sun shone?
How came to be so treasured there?
Perhaps had graced a lovers hair
-And stored to precious memory hold;
Relived when nights were long and cold.
Perchance the first fresh flower of spring
-That, sprang from winters storms did bring
A happy hope of life to come
-Of joys that gleam when trials are done.
Couldst been glad gift of little one,
With infant joy in field and sun;
Carried crushed in chubby hand
- To give to Mom- like something grand!
This tiny whisp of flattened straw
With merry memories did sadness thaw;
When held perhaps in age worn hand,
By one grown tired on lifes long strand
I wished they could beside me stand,
As I pondered it there in my hand;
The lives this bloom did somehow touch
-Oh, little things can mean so much!