Yields a new thought with every petal
The exceeding beauty of the earth, in her
splendor of life, yields a new thought with
every petal.
I have been lost and drowned
In beauty's deeps
Forgetting,
Beauty is but the garment
Thou dost wear;
And when the eventide has come
Thou has departed,
Leaving Thy garment,
But I seek Thyself.