70
A Sanitary Message.
I've seen the grass on Eastern graves
In brighter verdure rise;
But oh, the rain that gave it life
Sprang first from human eyes.
"I come to wash away no stain
Upon your wasted lea;
I raise no banners, save the ones
The forest wave to me.
Upon the mountain side, where Spring
Her farthest picket sets
My reveillé awakes a host
Of grassy bayonets.
"I visit every humble roof;
I mingle with the low;
Only upon the highest peaks
My blessings fall in snow,
Until in tricklings of the stream,
And drainings of the lea,
My unspent bounty comes at last
To mingle with the sea."
