Seemingly dead, bent, brown and dried,
Unnoticed on yon shelf, she lay;
Until a voice within her cried,
'Awake! 'tis Ressurrection Day.'

A slender blade of palest green
From her inner soul crept out,
Timid, fearful to be seen,
A lone adventurer—in doubt.

Then bolder shoots of deeper hue
Sprang resolutely into view:
And, centered in their midst, appeared
A stem whose head was ever reared
Upward toward the sun and light,
Until at last, in raiment white,
A flower, full blown upon the breeze,
Did freely waft perfume to please—
You and me.