| | Flowers! when the Saviour's calm, benignant eye Fell on your gentle beauty; when from you That heavenly lesson for all hearts he drew. Eternal, universal as the sky; Then in the bosom of your purity A voice He set, as in a temple shrine, That Life's quick travellers ne'er might pass you by Unwarn'd of that sweet oracle divine. And though too oft its low, celestial sound By the harsh notes of work-day care is drown'd, And the loud steps of vain, unlist'ning haste, Yet the great lesson hath no tone of power, Mightier to reach the soul in thought's hush'd hour, Than yours, meek lilies, chosen thus, and graced. Mrs. Hemans. |
