The welcome flowers are blossoming,
In joyous troops revealed;
They lift their dewy buds and bells
In garden, mead, and field:
They lurk in every sunless path,
Where forest children tread;
They dot, like stars, the sacred turf,
Which lies above the dead.
They sport with every playful wind
That stirs the blooming trees,
And laugh on every fragrant bush,
All full of toiling bees:
From the green marge of lake and stream,
Fresh vale and mountain sod,
They look in gentle glory forth, —
The pure sweet flowers of God.
They come, with genial airs and skies.
In summer’s golden prime,
And to the stricken world give back
Lost Eden’s blissful clime:
Outshining Solomon they come,
And go full soon away;
But yet, like him, they meekly breathe
True wisdom while they stay.
“If God,” they whisper, “smiles on us,
And bids us bloom and shine,
Does He not mark, O faithless man!
Each wish and want of thine?
Think, too, what joys await in Heaven
The blest of human birth.
When rapture such as woos thee now
Can reach the bad on earth!”
Redeemer of a fallen race,
Most merciful of kings,
Thy hallowed words have clothed with power
Those frail and beauteous things:
All taught by Thee, they yearly speak
Their message of deep love,
Bidding us fix, for life and death,
Our hearts and hopes above.
-J. G. LYONS.