I AM a lowly grass-blade,
A fair green leaf is she,
Her little fluttering shadow
Falls daily over me.

She sits so high in sunshine,
I am so low in shade,
I do not think she ever
Has looked where I am laid.

She sings to merry music,
She frolics in the light;
The great moon plays the lover
With her through half the night.

The swift, sweet winds they flatter
And woo her all the day, —
I tremble lest the boldest
Should carry her away.

Only a little grass-blade,
That dare not look so high,
Yet, oh! not any love her
One half so well as I.

My little love — so happy!
My love — so proud and fair!
Would she might dwell forever
In the sweet summer air.

But, ah! the days will darken,
The pleasant skies will pall,
And pale, and parched, and broken,
My little love down fall.

And yet the thought most bitter
Is not that she must die,
But that even death should bring her
To lie as low as I.