THE EASTER FLOWER
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ar from this foreign Easter damp and chillyMy soul steals to a pear-shaped plot of ground,Where gleamed the lilac-tinted Easter lilySoft-scented in the air for yards around; Alone, without a hint of guardian leaf!Just like a fragile bell of silver rime,It burst the tomb for freedom sweet and briefIn the young pregnant year at Eastertime; And many thought it was a sacred sign,And some called it the resurrection flower;And I, a pagan, worshiped at its shrine,Yielding my heart unto its perfumed power.
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