The Morning-Glory

Was it worth while to paint so fairThy every leaf—to vein with faultless artEach petal, taking the boon light and airOf summer so to heart?

To bring thy beauty unto perfect flower,Then, like a passing fragrance or a smile,Vanish away, beyond recovery's power—Was it, frail bloom, worth while?

Thy silence answers: "Life was mine!And I, who pass without regret or grief,Have cared the more to make my moment fine,Because it was so brief.

"In its first radiance I have seenThe sun!—why tarry then till comes the night?I go my way, content that I have beenPart of the morning light!"