  Violet, rose, and golden-rod! Blossoms of the self-same sod, Springing from the breathing mold Into beauty manifold. Each its season knoweth well, Without sign or syllable,— Faithful to the law benign Potent over palm and pine. Excellent in their degree, Rivals they can never be; Fashioned with divinest grace, Each is perfect in its place. Dear to Childhood and to Age, Each hath ample heritage In these human hearts of ours, Kindred with the leaves and flowers. Soon, like theirs, our day is done;— We are fading e’en as they,— We with them must pass away. But the flowers shall bloom again; Ends, at last, the winter’s reign;— Life is larger than a breath,— Love is master over death! Precious, in the sight of God, Violet, rose, and golden-rod;— Dearer far to Heaven are we, Children of eternity!
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