Jewel-Weed

THOU lonely, dew-wet mountain road,Traversed by toiling feet each day,What rare enchantment maketh theeAppear so gay?

Thy sentinels, on either handRise tamarack, birch, and balsam-fir,O'er the familiar shrubs that greetThe wayfarer;

But here's a magic cometh new—A joy to gladden thee, indeed:This passionate out-flowering ofThe jewel-weed,

That now, when days are growing drear,As Summer dreams that she is old,Hangs out a myriad pleasure-bellsOf mottled gold!

Thine only, these, thou lonely road!Though hands that take, and naught restore,Rob thee of other treasured things,Thine these are, for

A fairy, cradled in each bloom,To all who pass the charmèd spotWhispers in warning: "Friend, admire,—But touch me not!

"Leave me to blossom where I sprung,A joy untarnished shall I seem;Pluck me, and you dispel the charmAnd blur the dream!"