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William Allingham - Wayside Flowers
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Pluck not the wayside flower, 
It is the traveller`s dower; 
A thousand passers-by 
Its beauties may espy, 
May win a touch of blessing 
From Nature`s mild caressing. 
The sad of heart perceives 
A violet under leaves 
Like sonic fresh-budding hope; 
The primrose on the slope 
A spot of sunshine dwells, 
And cheerful message tells 
Of kind renewing power; 
The nodding bluebell`s dye 
Is drawn from happy sky. 
Then spare the wayside flower! 
It is the traveller`s dower.
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