THE rose said 'Let but this long rain be past, <br />And I shall feel my sweetness in the sun <br />And pour its fullness into life at last.' <br />But when the rain was done, <br />But when dawn sparkled through unclouded air, <br />She was not there. <br /> <br />The lark said 'Let but winter be away, <br />And blossoms come, and light, and I will soar, <br />And lose the earth, and be the voice of day.' <br />But when the snows were o'er, <br />But when spring broke in blueness overhead, <br />The lark was dead. <br /> <br />And myriad roses made the garden glow, <br />And skylarks carolled all the summer long— <br />What lack of birds to sing and flowers to blow? <br />Yet, ah, lost scent, lost song! <br />Poor empty rose, poor lark that never trilled! <br />Dead unfulfilled!<br /><br />Augusta Davies Webster<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/not-to-be-2/
