WILD VERBENA 



April showers fall on thee, 

 Thrilling with their minstrelsy, 

 Singing drops from rhythmic clouds, 

 Till thy blossoms come in crowds, 

 And thy ruffled leaves of green 

 Stand about, thy stem to screen 

 Fence thee with a leafy mail 

 From the pelting springtime hail; 

 Wild verbena, crowned with pink, 

 If such glory thou canst drink 

 From the vital stream that shoots 

 Through thy frail earth-covered roots, 

 Let some living current surge 

 Through my soul, and sweetly purge 

 Its earthly dross, that I may know 

 How the hidden man may grow, 

 Surely rooted in the deeps 

 Of the heart of life that keeps 

 Beauty close in touch with God, 

 In the soul or in the sod. 



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