76
TO THE FLOWERS.
Of that departed year, now with the pastAre closed forever to the light of earth;And many hands that held them in their claspAre folded now in quiet, peaceful rest.
Oh, ye are lovely! wheresoe'er ye dwell;In far-off Greece by classic fount and flood,Beneath Italia's bright and glowing skies,In sunny plains, or silent solitude,On prairie wild, in forest, or in dell.Ye have a language, too, for ev'ry heart;Ye are in ev'ry clime and ev'ry landWith deep, poetic meanings ever fraught.
Sweet sisterhood of flow'rs, we welcome you;And may your forms of fragile loveliness,Though transient bright, remind us of that landTo which our longing spirit ever turns,—That land where beauty never fades or dies!
