The flowers are the thoughts of God.
They bloom in sun and shadow,
By traveled path, or virgin sod,
In every lovely meadow;
In dooryards where the children play,
And hours are swiftly winging;
And Love comes at the close of day,
Its selfless tribute bringing.
Silent they grow, each in its place,
With cheer for all who love them,
Breathing their perfume in the face
Of all who bend above them.
They blossom where the weary plod
Their ways of toil and duty.
The flowers are the thoughts of God;
His love speaks in their beauty.