 | At the holy well |  |
THE FLOWER UNDER FOOT.
The flower may hide its tender face
Among the tangled meadow grasses;
It cannot hide its fragrance there
From any heart that passes.
Among the tangled meadow grasses;
It cannot hide its fragrance there
From any heart that passes.
Ah, gentle deeds—whose blessed wings
Alight in darkened doors, unbidden—
Your lovely flower is known in Heaven,
That low on Earth is hidden.
Alight in darkened doors, unbidden—
Your lovely flower is known in Heaven,
That low on Earth is hidden.
| At the holy well | |