Daniel Wilson (1816-1892)

Text from A Century of Canadian Sonnets.

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True Love

True love is lowly as the wayside flower,
That springeth up beneath the traveller's tread,
And lifteth trustfully its lovely head,
Content to bless therewith the passing hour;
Unheedful of the wealth of heavenly dower
It lavisheth upon a path bestead
With the coarse trafficking of sordid meed,
So it lie open but to sun and shower.
And love no less deals with unstinted hand:
Lavish to others, heedless of reward:
Deeming no sacrifice of self too hard,
So that, with fruitful arms outspread, she stand
Sowing around home's hearth her harvest treasure:
Heart's hoards of golden grain, showered down in affluent measure.