240
A SHEAF GLEANED
Sonnet—SENSITIVE GENIUS.
'Tis not the first man killed by careless blame
Flung by an idler. Many more have died
Unseen and bleeding at the left-hand side,
Struck by some thoughtless archer's random aim.
A flower requires not storm or lightning-flame
To blight its beauty. Clumsy hands applied
Crack the pure crystal to heaven's bow allied.
A hailstone's mortal to the dove's frail frame.
And far more delicate than trembling dove,
Or crystal prized, or flower in beauty bowed,
Is the poor gifted artist's heart of love.
But like a selfish headstrong child, the crowd
Breaks in its play a gem, all price above,
And then, 'I did not touch it,' cried aloud.
