 | Poems by Miss H. F. Gould |  |
219
FLOWER UPON THE GREEN HILL-SIDE.
Flower, upon the green hill-side,
Thou, to shun the threatening blast,
In the grass thy head dost hide,
By the tempest overpast.
Thou, to shun the threatening blast,
In the grass thy head dost hide,
By the tempest overpast.
Then to greet the azure skies,
And to feel the soothing sun,
Brighter, sweeter, thou dost rise!
Tell me, flower, how this is done!
And to feel the soothing sun,
Brighter, sweeter, thou dost rise!
Tell me, flower, how this is done!
“I will tell thee, as a friend,
Artless, timid, whispering low;
At the blast, 't is good to bend!
He, who made me, taught me so.
Artless, timid, whispering low;
At the blast, 't is good to bend!
He, who made me, taught me so.
“While his teaching I obey,
I but fall, to rise and stand,
Brightened by the stormy day,
Leaning on his viewless hand.
I but fall, to rise and stand,
Brightened by 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;
Then he gently lifts me up.
He with freshness fills my cup
From the angry, scowling cloud;
Then he gently 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!”
In the dark or sunny hour
Minding him, who rules the skies:—
He 's my God; and I'm his Flower!”
| Poems by Miss H. F. Gould | |