Classic Poem

Let me gather from the Earth, one full grown fragrant flower,
Let it bloom within my bosom through its one blooming hour.
Let it die within my bosom and to its parting breath
Mine shall answer, having lived , I shrink not now from death.
It is this niggard halfness that turns my heart to stone,
'Tis the cup seen, not tasted, that makes the infant moan.
Let me for once press firm my lips upon the moment's brow,
Let me for once distinctly feel I am all happy now ,
And bliss shall seal a blessing upon that moment's brow.