Poems (Emma M. Ballard Bell)/To the Flowers
For works with similar titles, see To the Flowers.
TO THE FLOWERS.
O fair and lovely blossoms, that adornAll nature with your loveliness and grace!From far-off South-lands blew the breezes mild,And Springtime's gentle voice again was heardThat called you forth to follow in her train.At her approach the moaning March-winds fled,And April, 'mid its sunshine and its show'rs,Led forth the floral train to welcome May.
Oh, say, fair children of the blooming spring,Know ye the changes that old Time hath wroughtSince last the springtime blossoms met us here?Heard ye the coming of that being dread,The angel Death, whose dark and gloomy wingO'er many hearthstones hath its shadows cast,That never on this earth shall take their flight?And now ye bloom o'er many new-made graves,Where forms of infancy, of youth, and ageAre resting till the Resurrection morn.Bright eyes that gazed upon the springtime flow'rs 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!