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1858–1924

THE MAGIC FLOWER.

Edith Nesbit

THROUGH many days and many days The seed of love lay hidden close; We walked the dusty tiresome ways Where never a leaf or blossom grows.

And in the darkness, all the while, The little seed its heart uncurled, And we by many a weary mile Travelled towards it, round the world.

To the hid centre of the maze At last we came, and there we found — O happy day, O day of days! — Twin seed-leaves breaking holy ground.

We dropped life's joys, a garnered sheaf, And spell-bound watched, still hour by hour, Magic on magic, leaf by leaf, The unfolding of our love's white flower.

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THE MAGIC FLOWER. · Edith Nesbit · Poetry Cove