Consider the Lilies of the Field

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Consider the Lilies of the Field by Christina Rosetti

FLOWERS preach to us if we will hear:–
The rose saith in the dewy morn:
I am most fair;
Yet all my loveliness is born
Upon a thorn.
The poppy saith amid the corn:
Let but my scarlet head appear
And I am held in scorn;
Yet juice of subtle virtue lies
Within my cup of curious dyes.
The lilies say: Behold how we
Preach without words of purity.
The violets whisper from the shade
Which their own leaves have made:
Men scent our fragrance on the air,
Yet take no heed
Of humble lessons we would read.
But not alone the fairest flowers:
The merest grass
Along the roadside where we pass,
Lichen and moss and sturdy weed,
Tell of His love who sends the dew,
The rain and sunshine too,
To nourish one small seed.

 

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see, there, the tree

see, there, the tree
her leaves branch out

look, there, it’s me
fist clenched with doubt

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see, there, the tree
tall she stands though wind will come
and rain and hail will beat her boughs.

look, there, it’s me
small, hunched, silent, dumb
again, again, the clouds surround.

So brave and straight, majestic she,
So anxious, lost, miserable me.

see, there, the tree
branches reaching for the skies
though storms roll in, reaches on

look, there, it’s me
arms weakly, trembling, rise
I’ll lift my hands and raise a song

see, there, that tree
it pointed to the light

look, there, that’s me
I’m singing in the night.