Whose cool, white bud unfolded tales that willows weep
Where broad green leaves and starry petals gem,
Where waters pause from maddened rush to catch the calm
That slips through foliage, to rest awhile
In reedy bays as man fatigued might search for calm
'Neath roofing church, immunity from guile.
A rustling sound, a stealthy tread, some broken twigs,
And Guilt peeped low through scrubby briar growth,
Then pushed his ruthless way, nor cared that tender sprigs
Refused to bloom, once heard his muttered oath.