Classic Poem

God did not give to thee the beauty of the rose,
Nor yet the fragrance of the violet sweet,
Yet named thee as a flower which early blows,
Among the first returning spring to greet.

Then hail to thee, thou golden daffodil!
Though of delusive hope thou art the sign,
Truth is the same, whoe'er the pulpit fill:
Love's token only is this flower of mine.

Thou art the earliest blossom which to me
From friendly hands hath borne a message sweet,
Since spring hath called the bird and flower and bee
To gladden earth with song and beauty meet.

Welcome, thrice welcome, as the gift of one
Who would send sunshine into every heart,
And bid the tearful think of that glad morn
When God himself shall say to grief, “Depart.”

Around her earthly path may flowers of love,
Of peace and hope, in fadeless colors bloom!
And may she gather, where the angels rove,
Those amaranths that grow beyond the tomb!