The poem
ONCE through the forest
Alone I went; To seek for nothing
My thoughts were bent.
I saw i' the shadow
A flower stand there As stars it glisten'd,
As eyes 'twas fair.
I sought to pluck it,--
It gently said: "Shall I be gather'd
Only to fade?"
With all its roots
I dug it with care, And took it home
To my garden fair.
In silent corner
Soon it was set; There grows it ever,
There blooms it yet.
1815.*