White with the whiteness of the snow,
Pink with the faintest rosy glow,
They blossom on their sprays;
They glad the borders with their bloom,
And sweeten with their rich perfume
The mossy garden ways.
The dew that from their brimming leaves
Drips down, the mignonette receives,
And sweeter grows thereby;
The tall June lilies stand anear,
In raiment white and gold, and here
The purple pansies lie.
Warm sunshine glitters over all,
On daisied sward and ivied wall,
On lily, pansy, rose;
While flitting round each garden bed,
With joyous laugh and airy tread,
A fairer sunbeam goes.
A little human blossom, bright
With childish, innocent delight
Of life yet in its dawn;
With sunshine prisoned in her hair,
Deep eyes unshadowed by a care,
She gambols on the lawn.
She checks the light elastic tread,
And stays to hear, far overhead,
The lark's song to its close;
Eyes shaded by two tiny hands —
We pray God bless her as she stands,
Our little daughter Rose.
Yea, bless the Rose, dear God, since we
Have given the Lily back to thee,
That bloomed with her awhile;
Yea, bless her deeply, doubly now,
For her dear sake, whose angel brow
Reflects thine awful smile.
How often in her childish face,
Our hungry, longing eyes can trace
The looks of one away;
How often in her merry tone
A music wakes, more sad than moan,
Of accents hushed for aye!
God bless the child to blossom here,
Our clinging human hearts to cheer,
Till life has reached its close;
To grow in sweetest grace and bloom,
To beautify the dear old home,
Out precious daughter Rose!
