THE CENTURY FLOWER.
What wakened thee from thy long sleep?
Who told thee when to bloom?
A century seems a long, long time
For thee to lie in gloom.
How didst thou know when to arise?
And thy new garment don;
Thou mightst have slept thy life away
Whilst time was going on.
Was there a power within thy soul?
A wish within thy heart?
To soar above all other flowers,
And with the birds take part
In singing songs of grateful joy
That thou hast waked from sleep,
That thou again dost see the light,
Hast risen from the deep;
The grave where thou so long hast lain.
To raise thy head on high,
And looking up to Deity
Once more; then droop and die.
Alas! Thy days are all too short
For thy long dreamless sleep.
When thou dost wake again to life,
Wilt thou awake to weep?
If thou rememberest aught of past,
Thou mayst perhaps regret
The flowers, and trees, now dead and gone,
And for them mourn e’en yet.
A generation will have passed;
A new one thou wilt greet;
All will be strangers unto thee,
No friend of past thou’lt meet.