Unfailing vestals of the sky,
As smiling thus ye weed from dread
The soul ye court to muse on high.
O flowers that breathe of beauty's reign,
In many a tint o'er lawn and lea,
That give the cold heart once again
A dream of happier infancy;
And even on the grave can be
A spell to weed affection's pain—
Children of Eden, who could see.