  A STALK of tall white lilies Bloomed out in a garden fair; Their breath, so sweet and fragrant, Scented the ambient air. As Easter day came on apace, It seemed as if they tried To grow still sweeter, for the morn When rose the Crucified. When dawned the holy Easter tide, And they were full in bloom, A sad-eyed woman gathered them And laid them on a tomb. And as she knelt in deepest woe Beside the flower-decked mound, And felt that all her hope was dead, The lilies’ fragrance stole around. It stole into her wounded breast; The sacred odors seemed to be A message for her bleeding heart— “The Crucified pities thee.” Caroline Stratton Valentine. bell in tower surrounded by swallos THE BELL HANGS IN THE TOWER. double line
|
|
