Читать книгу Lines from Collings Hill - Nellie Hunt Collings - Страница 8

Spring 1900

About this time in my life I wrote a poem called “Two Flowers”. I sent it to Salt Lake City to the Deseret Sunday School Union Board. I was afraid they wouldn’t publish it and I didn’t want anyone to make fun of it, so I never told any one, not even Mother or Janie. It was printed all right, but I [didn’t] find out about it until years after. Here it is:

Two Flowers

By the old stone wall in the garden two flowers grew side by side

One was a beautiful rosebud, whose beauty, alas, was her pride.

The other, a fair sweet lily of such a modest hue,

Who lived for the love she gave and received and the good that she could do.

The rose bud was discontented with the simple life she led,

Warmed by the gentle sunbeam and by the dew drops fed.

She never thought of thanking the sun for his gentle ray

And gave no heed to the Zephyr who kindly came her way.

Tired of peaceful solitude, she longed to go away

Far from her safe and quiet homes and live a life so gay.

One day a stranger passing, from her stem the sweet rose tore,

And that haughty flower’s thankless heart was quickly stationed o’er

[Proudly content in her new career, unreasoning helpless thing,

Felt she no shame at that rude caress, no keen resentful sting

She knew she was leaving her birthplace, the lonely little spot,

But her heart had gained its fond wish, for which it long had sought.]2

Into the brilliant ballroom he carried the blossom fair,

Then farther into the gay saloon, with its vile and stifling air,

But her beautiful color faded, her breath no longer sweet,

And the careless hand that had plucked her, cast her out in the stony street.

Alone in the cold dark gutter, unwept and unhonored she died

This beautiful rosebud, whose beauty, alas, was her pride.

“Just a pretty flower, Mama,” was the dying baby’s call.

And the mother found the lily by the Old Stone Wall.

The flower was placed in the Darling’s hand and together they died the two,

The lily grateful and full of joy for the good that she could do.

[Aged 17, 1900, written in Monroe, Utah]

2. This stanza is included in RWC’s transcription of the poems, but not in his transcription of the journals themselves.