This fragile flower I fain would pluck
With hand most kind yet bold;
And watch its petals day by day
Their shining wealth unfold.
And soon 'twill be my very own
To keep forevermore:
This flower that bloomed for me alone
Upon a heavenly shore.
God grant my hands may guard it well
And keep it pure and fair;
For angel hands have gathered it
And placed it in my care.
Then fare thee well, thou dying year,
Thou art my withered rose;
And on the stem where once thou wert,
Another flower grows;
Yet fear thee not, when thou are dead,
To thee I'll still be true;
And 'mid the joys of other years
I still will think of you.
Easter.
Let all the flowers wake to life;
Let all the songsters sing;
Let everything that lives on earth
Become a joyous thing.
Wake up, thou pansy, purple-eyed,
And greet the dewy spring;
Swell out, ye buds, and o'er the earth
Thy sweetest fragrance fling.
Why dost thou sleep, sweet violet?
The earth has need of thee;
Wake up and catch the melody
That sounds from sea to sea.
Ye stars, that dwell in noonday skies,
Shine on, though all unseen;
The great White Throne lies just beyond,
The stars are all between.
Ring out, ye bells, sweet Easter bells,
And ring the glory in;
Ring out the sorrow, born of earth--
Ring out the stains of sin.
O banners wide, that sweep the sky,
Unfurl ye to the sun;
And gently wave about the graves
Of those whose lives are done.
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