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