The blue of lilac, gold of daffodil,
With beauty, color, all my garden fill.
The air is heavy-sweet with perfume rare
Upbreathed from flowers on the morning air.
The joyous lilt of spring is now complete—
The heart can hardly bear this burden sweet,
This wealth of beauty, fleeting though it be,
Mere promise of the things my eyes shall see
Of Love's creating, when, in God's good time.
The shadow passes and I upward climb
To where all things in fadeless beauty grow,
And as reflection, or true substance, glow.
This beauty only promise is to me
Of Spirit's gifts! What must fulfillment be?
*"Miscellaneous Writings," by Mary Baker Eddy,p. 87.
