THE FLOWERETS’ COMMUNION
There is a solitary hillside,
Where flow’rets, blooming gay,
Have watched the sky with eager pride
From dawn till close of day.
No wand’ring stranger do they see,
Who treads that silent place,
To look upon their majesty
Or view their radiant face.
But yet, unplaintive, do they bloom
And smile out ’gainst the sky,—
From them the birds do take their song
And bees their honey ply.
Then come the little sunbeams fair,
Leaping o’er the crumbled wall,
And gayly dancing here and there
Spring at the flow’rets’ call.
Then sweet communion do they hold,
The flowers and sunbeams there;
The sunbeams stoop to plant their lips
Upon the flow’rets fair.
They breathe into the sunbeams life
To trip athwart the plain,
To sparkle in their dazzling revelries
And round and round again.
Glad Hymen joins them there ’neath heaven
And seals them with her love:
And as the issue of their amity,
Joy rings to heaven above.
O ye who in earth’s lonely vales
Do struggling, plaintive go,
Think not thine humble merits less
Than in the world’s bright glow.
And ye who are most lonesome, sore,
Do not despairing wend,—
For every flower there darts a sunbeam fair,
For every soul, a helping friend.