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!