They tell me I must bruise
The rose’s leaf,
Ere I can keep and use
Its fragrance brief.

They tell me I must break
The skylark’s heart,
Ere her cage song will make
The silence start.

They tell me love must bleed,
And friendship weep,
Ere in my deepest need
I touch that deep.

Must it be always so
With precious things?
Must they be bruised and go
With beaten wings?

Ah, yes! by crushing days,
By caging nights, by scar
Of thorn and stony ways,
These blessings are!

— Dr. Jowett