FLOWERS AND LIFE.

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BY MARY HOWITT.

———

The autumn sun is shining,

Gray mists are on the hill;

A russet tint is on the leaves,

But flowers are blowing still!

Still bright, in wood and meadow;

On moorlands dry and brown;

By little streams; by rivers broad;

On every breezy down.

The little flowers are smiling,

With chilly dew-drops wet,

Are saying with a spirit-voice—

“We have not vanished yet!

“No, though the spring be over;

Though summer’s strength be gone;

Though autumn’s wealth be garnered,

And winter cometh on;

“Still we have not departed.

We linger to the last.

And even on early winter’s brow

A cheerful ray will cast!”

Go forth, then, youths and maidens,

Be joyful whilst ye may;

Go forth, then, child and mother,

And toiling men grown gray.

Go forth, though ye be humble,

And wan with toil and care;

There are no fields so barren

But some sweet flower is there!

Flowers spring up by the highway

Which busy feet have trod;

They rise up in the dreariest wood;

They gem the dullest sod.

They need no learned gardeners

To nurture them with care;

They only need the dews of earth,

The sunshine and the air.

And for earth’s lowly children;

For loving hearts and good,

They spring up all around us,

They will not be subdued.

Thank God! when forth from Eden

The weeping pair was driven,

That unto earth, though cursed with thorns,

The little flowers were given!

That Eve, when looking downward,

To face her God afraid,

Beheld the scented violet,

The primrose in the shade!

Thank God, that with the thistle

That sprang up in his toil,

The weary worker, Adam,

Saw roses gem the soil!

And still for anxious workers;

For hearts with anguish full,

Life, even on its dreariest paths,

Has flowers for them to cull!