  By ALEXANDER ANDERSON. Death came to the earth, by his side was Spring, They came from God’s own bowers, And the earth was full of their wandering, For they both were sowing flowers. “I sow,” said Spring, “by the stream and the wood, And the village children know The gay glad time of my own sweet prime, And where my blossoms grow. “There is not a spot in the quiet wood But hath heard the sound of my feet, And the violets come from their solitude When my tears hath made them sweet.” “I sow,” said Death, “where the hamlet stands, I sow in the churchyard drear; I drop in the grave with gentle hands, My flowers from year to year. “The young and the old go into their rest, To the sleep that awaits them below; But I clasp the children unto my breast, And kiss them before I go.” “I sow,” said Spring; “but my flowers decay When the year turns weak and old, When the breath of the bleak winds wears them away, And they wither and droop in the mould. “But they come again when the young earth feels The new blood leap in her veins, When the fountain of wonderful life unseals, And the earth is alive with the rains.” “I sow,” said Death; “but my flowers unseen Pass away from the land of men, Nor sighs nor tears through the long sad years Ever bring back their bloom again. “But I know they are wondrous bright and fair In the fields of their high abode; Your flowers are the flowers that a child may wear, But mine are the blossoms of God.” Death came to the earth, by his side was Spring; The two came from God’s own bowers; One sow’d in night and the other in light, Yet they both were sowing flowers. decorative line |
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