We should not mind so small a flower
Except it quiet bring
Our little garden that we lost
Back to the Lawn again.
So spicy her Carnations nod –
So drunken, reel her Bees –
So silver steal a hundred flutes
From out a hundred trees –
That whoso sees this little flower
By faith may clear behold
The Bobolinks around the throne
And Dandelions gold.
Except it quiet bring
Our little garden that we lost
Back to the Lawn again.
So spicy her Carnations nod –
So drunken, reel her Bees –
So silver steal a hundred flutes
From out a hundred trees –
That whoso sees this little flower
By faith may clear behold
The Bobolinks around the throne
And Dandelions gold.
This heart that broke so long –
These feet that never flagged –
This faith that watched for
star in vain,
Give gently to the dead –