The Periwinkle
In a corner moist and shady,
Where the willows grew,
And comes forth the lord and lady
With the sun and dew,
Climb the velvet Periwinkles
In their robes of blue.
Forth they look where moss is tender,
And the grass-blades low,
While the sun hides half his splendour,
When the great winds blow,
And the blue-bell and the primrose
Their dear faces show.
Stars ye shine amid the ruin
Where dead feet have trod;
Stars ye are,the rill-side strewing,
Stars on burial sod;
Stars where valley ferns are shaking,
And the hill pines nod:
Ever clinging, ever shining,
In your lowly sphere;
To a stronger closely twining
With a clasp sincere.
So would we lean on the Master,
Till life's latest year.
