EASTER DAY.
Awake, pretty flowers
Asleep in the snows,
For this is the morning
When Jesus arose.
Each lily he loved
In the meadows of old,
Will welcome the Master
With blossoms of gold.
Ye violets, sweet with
The breath of the South;
Anemone blushing,
With rosy-lipped mouth;
Arbutus, half-hiding
Your delicate grace—
The Savior has risen,
Behold ye his face!
The types of his death
And rising are ye.
Fair gems of the meadow,
Bright buds of the lea.
"Messiah is living!"
The cherubim say;
Shine forth in your beauty
To greet him to-day!
—Sel.