Iii

"Of all the flowers that bow the head, Or gaze erect on sun and sky, Not one there is, declines to sned, Or standeth up, to qualify His incense-meed:

"Of all that blossom one by one, Or join their lips in loving cluster, Not one hath now resolved alone, Or taken counsel, that his lustre Shall be unshown.

"So let thy soul a blossom be, To breathe the fragrance of its praise, And lift itself, in early days, To Him who fosters thee.