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TYPES
Only a little cross
Of forest nurtured moss,
Gray, brown and green—
With here a gleam of gold,
While there in dainty fold,
Like fairy blossoms, scarlet tips are seen.

Only a simple wreath,
Clasping the cross beneath,—
Immortelles fair;
Holding in fadeless hue
The summer's sun and dew,
Bright living thanks for heaven's loving care.

Only a little life,
Wherein a constant strife
Is waged with sin,
With evils which allure,—
With thoughts and aims impure,—
That the whole soul grow undefiled within.

Often in humble ways,
Kind deeds unknown to praise
Brighten a cross,
That casts its tear-marked shade
Where some life-hope is laid,—
Some burden newly raised, some gold proved dross.

Kind deeds, like flowers fair,
Should help with loving care
To soothe each loss;
Then would life's common way
Find round its brown and gray
Love's fair immortelles wreathing every cross.

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