Classic Poem

Bright glow'd the Myrtle's verdant pride,
That near my lowly cottage sprung;
But on the gale of eventide,
The tree no grateful odours flung.

Once with rude hand a branch I tore,
And all its tender leaflets prest;
When, pouring forth its hidden store,
Its native sweetness stood confest.

'Tis thus in life's untroubled day,
The virtuous mind its charms withholds;
Nor always ventures to display
That excellence the heart enfolds.

But when severe misfortunes rise,
Its genuine worth is felt and prov'd;
And whilst it suffers, droops, or dies,
'Tis doubly cherish'd, mourn'd, and lov'd.

Bright glow'd the Myrtle's verdant pride,
That near my lowly cottage sprung;
But on the gale of eventide,
The tree no grateful odours flung.

Once with rude hand a branch I tore,
And all its tender leaflets prest;
When, pouring forth its hidden store,
Its native sweetness stood confest.

'Tis thus in life's untroubled day,
The virtuous mind its charms withholds;
Nor always ventures to display
That excellence the heart enfolds.

But when severe misfortunes rise,
Its genuine worth is felt and prov'd;
And whilst it suffers, droops, or dies,
'Tis doubly cherish'd, mourn'd, and lov'd.