46 VOICE OF FLOWERS. 



But, tvath an everlasting beam 



They smile, where no dark cloud descends ; 

 Theirs wa&amp;gt; that hallow d incense stream, 



Which heavenward tends. 



Unfading, lo ! they live, they bloom 

 Transplanted by His culturing hand, 

 Who bade them seek beyond the tomb 

 A better land. 



