Spring Flowers

With what a lavish hand
God beautifies the earth,
When everywhere, all o’er the land,
Sweet flowers are peeping forth!

Down by the babbling brook,
Up in the silent hills,
The glen, the bower, the shady nook,
Their breath with fragrance fills.

They creep along the hedge,
They climb the rugged height,
And, leaning o’er the water’s edge,
Blush in their own sweet light.

They seem to breathe and talk;
They pour into my ear;
Where’er I look, where’er I walk,
A music soft and clear.

They have no pride of birth,
No choice of regal bower;
The humblest, lowliest spot on earth
May claim the fairest flower.