I.
Apollo dropt a seed of song
Into my heart one day,
And, smiling godlike, passed along
Upon his heavenly way.
II.
I saw him make his golden arc,
For many a weary day,
But still the little seedling, dark
Lay hid beneath the clay.
III.
But gentle eyes, one joyous hour,
Shone where my seedling lay,—
O Love, tend well thy little flower,
And let it not decay.