Poems (Edwards)/On Receiving a Sprig of Flowers

by Matilda Caroline Smiley Edwards

ON RECEIVING A SPRIG OF FLOWERS.

O! dost thou think my dear kind friend!
 That these pure flowers are vainly given,
These flowers that speak to me of hope,
 Of friends, of joys, of love and Heaven?
No, no, from every polished leaf,
 Methinks I hear sweet voices stealing,
Sweet voices sinking in my heart,
 Its deepest fount of love unsealing.

They speak to me of hours gone by,
 They speak to me of the departed,
They tell me of our household band,
 The kind, the true, the gentle hearted;
They speak to me of brightening hopes,
 Of hopes o'er life's dark billows gleaming,
Of hopes whose radiance like a star,
 Comes through the storm clouds brightly beaming.

They tell me of a happier clime,
 A clime unknown to pain and sorrow,
They tell me that the hopes that die
 To-day, may be renewed to-morrow;
They tell me of immortal bloom,
 Beyond this toilsome life of ours;
Thy gift, though small, is not in vain,
 It spreads a glory round my room,
It fills the air with its perfume,
 And makes the heart forget all pain;
O what a wealth there is in flowers.