THE flowers ! the lovely flowers !
They are springing forth again ;
And opening their gentle eyes
In forest and in plain !
They cluster round the ancient stems,
And ivied roots of trees,
Like children playing gracefully
About a father's knees.
The flowers ! the lovely flowers !
Their pure and radiant eyes
Greet us where e'er we turn our steps,
Like angels from the skies !
They say that nought exists on earth,
However poor and small,
Unseen by God ; the meanest things,
He careth for them all !
The flowers ! the lovely flowers !
The fairest type are they
Of the soul springing from its night
To sunshine and to day ;
For though they lie all dead and cold,
With winter snow above,
The glorious spring doth call them forth
To happiness and love.
