I
A sensitive plant in a garden grew,
And the young winds fed it with silver dew,
And it opened its fan-like leaves to the light,
And closed them beneath the kisses of night.
II
And the Spring arose on the garden fair,
Like the Spirit of Love felt everywhere;
And each flower and herb on Earth’s dark breast
Rose from the dreams of its wintry rest.
III
But none ever trembled and panted with bliss
In the garden, the field, and the wilderness,
Like a doe in the noontide with love’s sweet want,
As the companionless Sensitive Plant.