Symbols by Christina Georgina Rossetti — Read

I watched a rosebud very long / Brought on by dew and sun and shower, / Waiting to see the perfect flower: / Then, when I thought it should be strong, / It opened at the matin hour / And fell at even-song.

I watched a nest from day to day, / A green nest full of pleasant shade, / Wherein three speckled eggs were laid: / But when they should have hatched in May, / The two old birds had grown afraid / Or tired, and flew away.

Then in my wrath I broke the bough / That I had tended so with care, / Hoping its scent should fill the air; / I crushed the eggs, not heeding how / Their ancient promise had been fair: / I would have vengeance now.

But the dead branch spoke from the sod, / And the eggs answered me again: / Because we failed dost thou complain? / Is thy wrath just? And what if God, / Who waiteth for thy fruits in vain, / Should also take the rod?