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poems.
  Thanks that the sweet perfume
  Of nature's radiant bloom
Comes yet again new beauty to impart.
  Thanks that I hear again
  The soft and soothing strain,
Whose heaven-taught harmonies make glad my heart.

  Yet shall the spirit raise
  A holier song of praise,
For gifts more fair are borne upon thy wing,—
  Breathings of that bright clime
  Beyond the touch of time,
Where blooms and blossoms an eternal Spring.

  Thy glory droops and dies;
  But on its grave there lies
A sunbeam from the skies that have no night.
  Earth's bloom shall melt away,
  Yet shall its fading ray
Brighten again in realms of endless light.