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VI.
“Jim,” says Mother," where's your ball,
dear ?”—
"Where are yours, Mum?—mine’s
gone dead I”—
“Come with me, and see them all,
dear,
Blooming in my garden bed.
VII.
“Blue and. red and pink and creamy,
Waxen white, and wondrous fair,
From the ‘dirty ground,’ my Jimmy,
They have risen to blossom there.”
VIII.
Friend, did God once plant some
pleasure
For a season from your sight,
Soon you’ll see your hidden treasure
Rise again in blossoms bright.
IX.
But if God your prayer had granted,
Soon your joy had met its doom—
If that bulb had not been planted,
Could you hope to see the bloom?
