






FLOWERS. 
Not alone in her vast dome of glory, 
Not on graves of bird aad beast alone, 
But in old cathe -drals, high and hoary, 
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On the tombs of heroes, carved in storms ; 
In the cottage of the rudest peasant, 
In ancestral homes, whose crumbling towers, 
Speaking of the Past unto the Present, 
Tell us of the ancient Games of Flowers; 
In all places, then, and in all seasons, 
Flowers expand their light and soul-like wings, 
Teaching us, by most persuasive reasons, 
How akin they are to human things. 
And with child-like, credulous affection, 
We behold their tender buds expand ;— 
Emblems of our own great. resurrection, 
Emblems of the bright and better land. 



