“ How bright beneath the Sun,

How Jweet within the glade,

The flow’rets ope, each one
Beloved by Him Who made
His Flowers that live in light, His Flowers that
live in Jhade.
“ The Primrojes are pale,

Yet fair ; the Violet grows
Beneath her leafy veil,

And be Jhe pale none knows,

Or be Jhe fair, Jb Jweet her Jbul that overflows.
“ But ali my head is Jtrewed
With ajhes gray ; and bent
Beneath the footfall rude,

Steals forth my timid Jcent
Crujhed from a leaf that curis, its wound to hide
content.
28



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“ Why jhould my Lord delight
In me ? Behold how fair
His Garden is ! How bright
His Rofes blowing therc ;

His Lilies ali like Queens that know not toil nor
care,

“ In white calm peace on high
Each rears a blojfomed rod ;

The Gentian low doth lie,

Yet lifts from up the fod

An eye of JleadfaJl blue that looks up Jlraight to
God.
