AN EASTER CROCUS. 



I WATCHED a budding crocus 

 As it rose to meet the light, 

 From a slumber 'neath the snowbanks 

 Through the dreary winter night, 

 And it seemed too bright and lovely 

 For a thing with roots in dirt. 



Came a whisper from Ostara : 



Stored-up forces from the sun 

 Sprang from out that bulb all potent 



And its mission was begun. 

 For it pleased men with true beauty, 

 Though the roots were deep in dirt. 



Then I thought of Easter morning, 



When a man divine arose, 

 Calling forth a power eternal 



For believers ; to disclose 

 All the sin and human folly 

 That we slumber in, as dirt. 



And to-day from all that 's worldly 



May fine character arise 

 Out of envies, lies, injustice. 



There 's to us a glad surprise 

 That such thing can spring from forces 

 Hidden in the midst of dirt. 

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