A FLOWER ON THE TRAIL
My heart was weary yesterday;I said: “The road is long;The busy hum of middle dayShuts out the morning song;The rush of careless, hurrying feetThat crowd the upward slope,Have crushed the daisies into dust,And spent the dews of hope.”Then straight within the trampled pathThe eager throng had trod,A little purple flower unclosed,Nor pined for greener sod:And one whose load had weighed him soreLooked down at it and smiled,And dreamed of woodland trails he lovedTo follow when a child.So still when bitterness and fretWould drown the melody,Some little harmony steals inTo set the music free;And we may keep till day is doneThe morning dreams we knew,If ever in our hearts there liveThe daisies and the dew.