To gather in his fragrant winter store,
Humming in calm content his quiet song,
Seeks not alone the rose’s glowing breast,
The lily’s dainty cup, the violet’s lips—
But from all rank and noxious weeds he sips
The single drop of sweetness closely press’d
Within the poison chalice. Thus, if we
Seek only to draw forth the hidden sweet,
In all the varied human flowers we meet,
In the wide garden of humanity;