The Stranger's Gift

I found far culled from fragrant field and grove Each flower that makes our Spring a welcome guest, In one sweet bond of brotherhood inwove On osier band their leafy stalks compressed; A stranger's hand had made their bloom my own, And fresh their fragrance rest on the air; His gift was mine—but he who gave unknown, And my heart sorrowed though the flowers were fair: Now oft I grieve to meet them on the lawn, Scattered along the path I love to go, By One who on their petals paints the dawn, And gilt with sunset splendors bids them glow, For I ne'er asked 'who steeps them in perfume?' Nor anxious sough His love who crowns them all with bloom.