What does the little one see down there
In the cups of the crocuses fresh and fair
With their purple tints and delicate veins,
Born of spring sunshine and April rains,
Her eager feet pausing in glad surprise,
A happy light shining from wond'ring eyes
As she catches their fragrance faint and sweet,
Pure blossoms for Easter morning meet?

Sees she a meaning hidden well
In the trembling heart of the fragile bell,
A blessing withheld from the prudent and wise,
Yet granted, perchance, to the trusting eyes
Of him, who with simple, patient mind
Waits God's own time, the answer to find
To mysteries deep and questionings wild,
And entereth in like a little child?