Ros Solis Poem by Annie Adams Fields

THOU lowly herb!
The lesson thou canst teach my heart would learn,
For the road is hot,
The centre of my being a dry spot!
I hurry and I burn,
Till by the wayside here I thee discern,
Where thou dost hold and gather in the curb
Of thy strong breast
One cool, sweet drop,
While I am so opprest.

On my knees I pause
To watch thee cherishing the dew that fell
In the still hour when Heaven blest Earth
With her cool kiss.
In that one hour of bliss
Behold a sacred birth!
What voice can tell
Thy tender history,
Nor wherewithal thou feed'st this mystery,--
Thy spirit's prop?

Show me thy laws!
Was gladness but a toy
Broken with tears and cast away?
Or is this well a token of thy joy,
A coolness in the heat,
A resting-place for weary feet,
A song for those who cannot sing
But turn, as thou hast done,
Even in the burning sun,
The sorrow of a day
Into a grace no joyous dawn can bring!