My Flower-pot. Unknown

      I love the flowers, the fragrant flowers!

      They’re fairy things to me;

      They seem like angels sent to bless,

      And teach of purity.

      There is beauty in flowers

      When kissed by the showers

      That fall in the bowers

      Of gardens so fair,

      When music is telling

      In notes that are swelling,

      And love is excelling,

      Aloft in the air.

      Birds now are singing,

      Deep valleys are ringing,

      And harmony bringing

      Content to the mind.

      Flowers are caressing,

      And sending a blessing

      To all now confessing

      To be to them kind.

      Minds soon are roving

      To lands that are blooming

      Afar from the glooming

      Of woe and despair,

      Saying, “Come to the bowers

      Filled with rare flowers—

      Nature’s kind dowers,

      Free as the air.”

      Come, my love, and do not spurn

      From a little flower to learn:

      See the lily on the bed,

      Hanging down its modest head;

      While it scarcely can be seen,

      Folded in its leaf of green.

      Yet we love the lily well,