And cheer the drooping heart.
Fair gift, by royal donor given,
dipped in the radiant dyes of heaven,
And strown o'er every land,
Ye shed your fragrance o'er the tomb,
Steal from deep solitude its gloom,
And when the gardener gives you room,
You bless his fostering hand.
Not Newton, though he soared so high,
And traced the planets through the sky,