Poetry Archives

Ruth was a laughing-eyed prattler,
  Thoughtless, and happy, and free;
She planted a seed in the garden,
  And said: “It will grow to a tree—
      A beautiful blossoming tree.”

The birds and the squirrels played round it,
  As careless and merry was she,
But not tree ever grew from her planting—
  No beautiful blossoming tree.

Ruth was a winsome-faced maiden,
  Happy, and hopeful, and free;
She planted a seed in the garden,
  And smilingly waited to see—
      A beautiful blossoming tree.

She covered the ground up with flowers,
  The butterfly came, and the bee,
But no tree ever grew from her planting—
  No beautiful blossoming tree.

Ruth was a pale saddened woman,
  Thoughtful, with tremblings and fears,
She planted a seed in the garden,
  And watered the place with her tears—
      And watched it with tremblings and fears.

The winds and the rains beat upon it,
  The lightnings flashed o’er it in glee;
But she sleeps ’neath the tree of her planting—
  A beautiful blossoming tree.