I stood for a moment longing
As I seldom had longed before,
Longing for even the life that was gone
To return to that flower no more.
But the breezes bent over me softly
And whispered, the lost is found,
For whatever you pluck from the surface
Is restored once more in the ground;
For the gardens of earth hold blossoms more fair
Than the one you have plucked and are holding there.