White bud, that in meek beauty so dost lean
Thy cloister'd cheek as pale as moonlight snow,
Thou seem'st beneath thy huge, high leaf of green,
An Eremite beneath his mountain's brow.

White bud! thou 'rt emblem of a lovelier thing,
The broken spirit that its anguish bears
To silent shades, and there sits offering
To Heaven the holy fragrance of its tears.