A Spray of Honeysuckle

I broke one day a slender stem,     Thick-set with little golden horns, Half bud, half blossom, and a gem—     Such as one finds in autumn morns When all the grass with dew is strung— On every fairy bugle hung. Careless, I dropped it, in a place     Where no light shone, and so forgot Its delicate, dewy, flowering grace,     Till presently from the dark spot A charming sense of sweetness came, That woke an answering sense of shame. Quickly I thought, O heart of mine,     A lesson for thee plain to read: Thou needest not that light should shine,     Or fellow-men thy virtues heed: Enough—if haply this be so— That thou hast sweetness to bestow!