V.

In the cool grottos of the soul, Whence flows thought's crystal river, Whence songs of joy forever roll To Him who is the Giver-- There store thou them, where fresh and green Their leaves and blossoms may be seen, A spring of joy that faileth never; There store thou them, and they shall be A blessing and a peace to thee, And in their youth and purity Thou shalt be young forever! Then, with their fragrance rich and rare, Thy living shall be rife, Strength shall be thine thy cross to bear, And they shall be a chaplet fair, Breathing a pure and holy air, To crown thy holy life.