 | Beads from a Rosary |  |
THE WINTER-WORK OF THE FLOWERS.
The flowers below are in their tiring-roomsFast busy, weaving, in those still retreats,
The robes of rainbow dyes, which they must wear,
When Spring, fast running o'er the drowsy earth,
Taps at the closed portals of their homes,
And calls them forth, fresh-perfum'd and new-clad,
To the festival of Nature.
| Beads from a Rosary | |