Flowers

Thank God I love the Flowers! Mute voices of the Spring, That gladden all her bowers With their varied blossoming; They weave a charm around them On each summer dale and bough, For a Fairy train has bound them In wreaths upon her brow. Far up along the mountain, And in the valleys green, In the field, and by the fountain, The smiling ones are seen; Some looking up to heaven, With eyes of deepest blue; Some stooping down at even To quaff the sparkling dew. And from them all there speaketh A language sweet and pure, Fitted for him who seeketh A God's nomenclature. As tidal pulses thrill the seas, And moments build the hours, Heaven breathes her unvoiced mysteries In sermons from the Flowers.