I am the flower within her garden-close
She cast aside;
Ah! had she plucked me, verily, God knows I had not died.

I would have fought a battle with strong Death,
And bloomed anew,
Finding sweet resurrection in her breath
The long day through;

And had she laid me on her trembling heart,
New fire had sprung
Into my crimson petals' every part
And made me young.

Yea, I for her had lived again; but O,
She passed me by,
And now, neglected, in the night I go
Softly--to die!