Classic Poem

MAPLE .

If her feelings, those buds of the heart,
Are slow their soft petals to part —
Too timid to brook
The world's cold look;
And dreading the slanderer's dart; —
When once they unfold in perfume,
They glow like the warm golden bloom
Which the maple-tree shows,
When its blossoms unclose,
Like light in the deep forest-gloom.