A Hidden Life and Other Poems by George MacDonald
page 78 of 339 (23%)
page 78 of 339 (23%)
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First rose the scarlet pimpernel, With burning purple heart; I saw it, and I knew right well The lesson of its art. Then came the primrose, childlike flower; It looked me in the face; It bore a message full of power, And confidence, and grace. And winds arose on uplands wild, And bathed me like a stream; And sheep-bells babbled round the child Who loved them in a dream. Henceforth my mind was never crossed By thought of vanished gold, But with it came the guardian host Of flowers both meek and bold. The loss is riches while I live, A joy I would not lose: Choose ever, God, what Thou wilt give, Not leaving me to choose. _"What said the flowers in whisper low, To soothe me into rest?"_ I scarce have words--they seemed to grow Right out of God's own breast. |
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