POETRY.

Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2483, 22 March 1882, Page 3

POETRY.

THE BOSE TBEE; OB " THE SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST. In a garden, fair to the gazer’s view, From the midst of a humble clump of green, A small but aspiring rose tree grew, “The survival of the fittest,” I ween— Part of the clump, and yet, all alone, It had made for itself a way of its own. Straight as an arrow, lithe and tall, It shot aloft on a single stem. High o’er tho other stalks scraggy and small, As if disowning alliance with them— As if to get freer breath, and loth To mix with tho commonplace undergrowth. But when it had reached its utmost height A wreath of rosea encircled its head, That 11 loded all beneath with their light, And flung their beauty o’er all tho bod, Making an every way fitting crown For tho dark mass of greenery farther down. So may it bo in a world like this, Whore “the fittest survives,” as oft wo know— Disdaining to rise in lonely bliss, Let it skelter and beautify all below, Forming a contrast both striking and sweet— The snow-white above and the green at its feet. Lst tho millionaire help with a loving heart The toilers under leas kindly skies ; Let tho man of high culture live to impart The treasures of thought that flash in his eyes; Let those who have reached a social throne Bo crowned for the welfare of others alone. Strive, brothers, strive for tho victor’s wreath, But ever in goadneas and humbleness clad, Hushing the murmurs of envy beneath By upholding the weak and cheering the sad, Till our earth seems a suburb of heaven above— Its one aim work, and its spirit love. A. 0. S. Daylesford.