University of Virginia Library

THE HILL-SIDE FLOWER.

Flower upon the green hill-side,
Thou, to shun the threatening blast,
In the grass thy head dost hide,
By the tempest overpast.

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Then to greet the azure skies,
And to feel the soothing sun,
Brighter—sweeter—dost thou rise!
Tell me, flower, how this is done!
“I will tell thee, as a friend,
Artless—timid—whispering low;
At the blast 'tis good to bend!
He who made me, taught me so.
“While his teaching I obey,
I but fall to rise, and stand,
Brighter for the stormy day,
Leaning on his viewless hand.
“When to him I've lowly bowed,
He with freshness fills my cup
From the angry, scowling cloud;
Gently then he lifts me up.
“So I sink,—and so I rise—
In the dark or sunny hour,
Minding him who rules the skies:—
He's my God; and I'm his flower!'