I've posted this before, a little stunner by Christina Rossetti:
Buds and Babies
A million buds are born that never blow,
..That sweet with promise lift a pretty head
..To blush and wither on a barren bed
....And leave no fruit to show.
Sweet, unfulfilled. Yet have I understood
..One joy, by their fragility made plain:
..Nothing was ever beautiful in vain,
....Or all in vain was good.
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