The little blossoms of her soul
Come forth at every sun-ray’s will:
Glance at the seed-calls! every stroll
Of warmth from heaven doth some one fill:
Let cloud and tempest o’er her roll,
The flowret and the fruit come still.
Well has love named the humble flower,
Meek Gilia, of colors three;
Well have ye placed it in your bower,
To emblem there, Humility;