Ungrateful he, who pluck'd thee from thy stalk, <br />Poor faded flow'ret! on his careless way; <br />Inhal'd awhile thy odours on his walk, <br />Then onward pass'd and left thee to decay. <br />Ah! melancholy emblem! had I seen <br />Thy modest beauties dew'd with Evening's gem, <br />I had not rudely cropp'd thy parent stem, <br />But left thee, blushing, 'mid the enliven'd green. <br />And now I bend me o'er thy wither'd bloom, <br />And drop the tear - as Fancy, at my side, <br />Deep-sighing, points the fair frail Abra's tomb - <br />'Like thine, sad Flower, was that poor wanderer's pride! <br />Oh! lost to Love and Truth, whose selfish joy <br />Tasted her vernal sweets, but tasted to destroy!'<br /><br />Samuel Taylor Coleridge<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-faded-flower-3/
