The Gentian weaves her fringes
|
The Gentian weaves her fringes -- The Maple's loom is red -- My departing blossoms Obviate parade. A brief, but patient illness -- An hour to prepare, And one below this morning Is where the angels are -- It was a short procession, The Bobolink was there -- An aged Bee addressed us -- And then we knelt in prayer -- We trust that she was willing -- We ask that we may be. Summer -- Sister -- Seraph! Let us go with thee! In the name of the Bee -- And of the Butterfly -- And of the Breeze -- Amen! |
