Hard seeds of hate I planted <br />That should by now be grown,-- <br />Rough stalks, and from thick stamens <br />A poisonous pollen blown, <br />And odors rank, unbreathable, <br />From dark corollas thrown! <br />At dawn from my damp garden <br />I shook the chilly dew; <br />The thin boughs locked behind me <br />That sprang to let me through; <br />The blossoms slept,--I sought a place <br />Where nothing lovely grew. <br />And there, when day was breaking, <br />I knelt and looked around: <br />The light was near, the silence <br />Was palpitant with sound; <br />I drew my hate from out my breast <br />And thrust it in the ground. <br />Oh, ye so fiercely tended, <br />Ye little seeds of hate! <br />I bent above your growing <br />Early and noon and late, <br />Yet are ye drooped and pitiful,-- <br />I cannot rear ye straight! <br />The sun seeks out my garden, <br />No nook is left in shade, <br />No mist nor mold nor mildew <br />Endures on any blade, <br />Sweet rain slants under every bough: <br />Ye falter, and ye fade.<br /><br />Edna St Vincent Millay<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/blight-3/
