Fairest and best adorned is she Whose clothing is humility.

There is a flower, a little flower With silver crest and golden eye, That welcomes every changing hour, And weathers every sky.

Eternity: a moment standing still for ever.

Blue thou art, intensely blue; Flower, whence came thy dazzling hue?

While rose-buds scarcely show'd their hue, But coyly linger'd on the thorn.

Eagle of flowers! I see thee stand, And on the sun's noon-glory gaze; With eye like his, thy lids expand, And fringe their disk with golden rays: Though fix'd on earth, in darkness rooted there, Light is thy element, thy dwelling air, Thy prospect heaven.

Prayer is the soul's sincere desire, Uttered or unexpressed, The motion of a hidden fire That trembles in the breast. Prayer is the burden of a sigh, The falling of a tear, The upward glancing of an eye When none but God is near.