The gift of utterance is ours, Love's service to proclaim; But in the fragrance of the flowers There breathes a purer flame. Abiding in their place of birth, They cleave unto the sod, In reverence, nearer unto earth; In lowliness, to God. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LAST WORD by MATTHEW ARNOLD DEATH (1) by MAXWELL BODENHEIM A BIRD'S ANGER by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES THE HILL WIFE: THE OFT-REPEATED DREAM by ROBERT FROST DORIS; A PASTORAL by ARTHUR JOSEPH MUNBY PICCIOLA by ROBERT HENRY NEWELL THE SON; SOUTHERN OHIO MARKET TOWN by FREDERICK RIDGELY TORRENCE |