Flowers

They are autographs of angels, penned

In Nature’s green-leaved book, in blended tints,

Borrowed from rainbows and the sunset skies,

And written everywhere–on plain and hill,

In lonely dells, ‘mid crowded haunts of men;

On the broad prairies, where no eye save God’s

May read their silent, sacred mysteries. Thank God for flowers!

They gladden human hearts; Seraphic breathings part their fragrant lips

With whisperings of Heaven.

Albert Laighton