WHY does my Anna toss her head, <br />And look so scornfully around, <br />As if she scarcely deign'd to tread <br />Upon the daisy-dappled ground? <br /> <br />Does fancied beauty fire thine eye, <br />The brilliant tint, the satin skin? <br />Does the loved glass, in passing by, <br />Reflect a graceful form and thin? <br /> <br />Alas! that form, and brilliant fire, <br />Will never win beholder's love; <br />It may, indeed, make fools admire, <br />But ne'er the wise and good can move. <br /> <br />So grows the tulip, gay and bold, <br />The broadest sunshine its delight; <br />Like rubies, or like burnish'd gold, <br />It shows its petals, glossy bright. <br /> <br />But who the gaudy floweret crops, <br />As if to court a sweet perfume! <br />Admired it blows, neglected drops, <br />And sinks unheeded to its doom. <br /> <br />The virtues of the heart may move <br />Affections of a genial kind; <br />While beauty fails to stir our love, <br />And wins the eye, but not the mind.<br /><br />Ann Taylor<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-gaudy-flower/
