AT MONAREE

When springtime comes to Monaree I know

How the blue hyacinths blow,

And how the daffodil lights its golden glow.

These blossoms are remembrancers of those

Who lie in long repose,

Lost to our earthly scenes of joys and woes,—

The saints of other days. How fair to see

These living emblems be

Of their good deeds — with spring at Monaree!