BRIGHT flowers, bright to glad our sight-
Ye spread the meadows green,
And naught that's fair
Can here compare,
That we have ever seen.
Thou violet blue, with beauty's hue
Upon thy slender stem,
Within thy bed
Thy modest head
In lowliness doth bend.
Bright flowers, bright ye are a light
To us from birth to tomb ;
A something rare
In beauty fair
That only dies to bloom.
Bright roses, 'bright the red, the white,
Twined in Nature's diadem,
Ye are the one
That those hath won
To be her brightest gem.
White lily, pure may those endure,
Nor waste thyself in vain ;
A lesson give
To us to live
Like thee, without a stain.
May all we do be pure as you
On earth run out our span,
And up above
"With those we love,
Be planted by his hand.
Bright daisies sweet, around our feet
May ye forever grow,
And o'er us spread,
When we are dead,
Above when we are low.
Bright flowers thus, when we are dust,
May ye our grave-sides tend,
And long may shine,
Forever twine
About th' abodes of men.
