Whether we’re loved, or torn and spurned,

We smile as Eve’s own garden bloom.

Scattering rose-leaves fresh and sweet,

Soft as baby’s lips and feet.

For the Beautiful One said “Stay;

Tell the children of God’s own love.

Breathing forth fragrance all the way;

Giving the smiles sent from above.”

So we watch for the little crib;

Strewing leaves on the baby’s bib.