Whilst enrooted in that Earth from whence I sprung,
Shunned once the cold but hither daily erelong grew,
Speaks a wonder thousand whence my stem fair and just,
Weeps a seeping cold that buzzes through me but chill,
Soothes me a fettering home within my bosom a heat soared,
Feathered long and once their days at end thus their nights,
Shall continue to grow and thus my bosom expand the petals reach,
Shall drink from the water that nature hath given me but half made,
Troubles not the rest around me but makes use of what known,
Finds their comfort fair yet distanced greatly from all others,
Lone and yet now blossomed thus I in my vanity finally valiant stood,
For whom the lake that weeps under rain had in Earth laid thus fare,
Better than me for none the laid; alas bequeaths a dainty feeling,
That of my saviour faire and while at the fount of my greatest gesture,
Stood the lady in white from whom peers down upon that solemn sparks,
To have thus dropped to her beauty or consume mine shall be death,
None but the greatest of Nature in all envy ensued breaches her fair,
Only for a while as I am uprooted from whence the Earth doth weep,
None but flowers did she notice, but tears in her beknownst what she would,
To have us, my lady and I be carried from life to ours: our lifeless state.

Nature, Poetry, Works
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