Fulfilment
I grew a rose once more to please mine eyes.All things to aid it—dew, sun, wind, fair skies—Were kindly; and to shield it from despoil,I fenced it safely in with grateful toil.No other hand than mine shall pluck this flower, said I,And I was jealous of the bee that hovered nigh.It grew for days; I stood hour after hourTo watch the slow unfolding of the flower,And then I did not leave its side at all,Lest some mischance my flower should befall.At last, oh joy! the central petals burst apart.It blossomed—but, alas! a worm was at its heart!