Love is enough: it grew up without heeding <br />In the days when ye knew not its name nor its measure, <br />And its leaflets untrodden by the light feet of pleasure <br />Had no boast of the blossom, no sign of the seeding, <br />As the morning and evening passed over its treasure. <br /> <br />And what do ye say then?--That Spring long departed <br />Has brought forth no child to the softness and showers; <br />--That we slept and we dreamed through the Summer of flowers; <br />We dreamed of the Winter, and waking dead-hearted <br />Found Winter upon us and waste of dull hours. <br /> <br />Nay, Spring was o'er-happy and knew not the reason, <br />And Summer dreamed sadly, for she thought all was ended <br />In her fulness of wealth that might not be amended; <br />But this is the harvest and the garnering season, <br />And the leaf and the blossom in the ripe fruit are blended. <br /> <br />It sprang without sowing, it grew without heeding, <br />Ye knew not its name and ye knew not its measure, <br />Ye noted it not mid your hope and your pleasure; <br />There was pain in its blossom, despair in its seeding, <br />But daylong your bosom now nurseth its treasure.<br /><br />William Morris<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/song-iii-it-grew-up-without-heeding/
