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187
THE SILVER SHOWER.
Look above, little Flower!
For, a bright Silver Shower,
I descend, cool and clear, o'er thy head!
While in dust thou art bowed,
I am sent from the cloud;
And shall fall, fresh and soft, on thy bed.
Thou must ne'er despair;
For with light and air,
And the purest drops, thou shalt still be fed!
In the dust thou art bowed;
So I'm sent from the cloud;
And I'll fall, fresh and soft, on thy bed.
For, a bright Silver Shower,
I descend, cool and clear, o'er thy head!
While in dust thou art bowed,
I am sent from the cloud;
And shall fall, fresh and soft, on thy bed.
Thou must ne'er despair;
For with light and air,
And the purest drops, thou shalt still be fed!
In the dust thou art bowed;
So I'm sent from the cloud;
And I'll fall, fresh and soft, on thy bed.
Of my pearls, coming down,
I will form thee a crown,
To encircle thy brow young and fair;
Every leaf on thy stem
Shall be tipped with a gem,
Every bud sparkling diamonds shall wear.
By the mirror's show
While thou ne'er wilt know
Thy beauty, nor proudly thy jewels bear,
Every leaf on thy stem
Shall be tipped with a gem,
Every bud sparkling diamonds shall wear!
I will form thee a crown,
To encircle thy brow young and fair;
Every leaf on thy stem
Shall be tipped with a gem,
Every bud sparkling diamonds shall wear.
By the mirror's show
While thou ne'er wilt know
Thy beauty, nor proudly thy jewels bear,
Every leaf on thy stem
Shall be tipped with a gem,
Every bud sparkling diamonds shall wear!
188
In the earth will I sink
To thy root, for its drink;
Then, unseen, with my life-giving power,
To thy heart when I go,
Let its sweet odors flow;
And in praise, look above, little Flower!
Never doubt that He
Who created thee
Is around the still, in the saddest hour!
To thy heart when I go,
Let its sweet odors flow,
Precious incense to Him, little Flower!
To thy root, for its drink;
Then, unseen, with my life-giving power,
To thy heart when I go,
Let its sweet odors flow;
And in praise, look above, little Flower!
Never doubt that He
Who created thee
Is around the still, in the saddest hour!
To thy heart when I go,
Let its sweet odors flow,
Precious incense to Him, little Flower!
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