1 So fades the lovely, blooming flower;
Frail smiling solace of an hour!
So soon our transient comforts fly,
And pleasure only blooms to die.
2 Is there no kind, no lenient art,
To heal the anguish of the heart?
Spirit of grace! be ever nigh;
Thy comforts are not made to die.
3 See gentle patience smile on pain,
Till dying hope revives again;
Hope wipes the tear from sorrow's eye,
And faith points upward to the sky.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | So fades the lovely, blooming flower |
Meter: | L. M. |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1867 |
Topic: | Death |