But foremost come two fairy ones
With dark eyes filled with light,
The very roses that they bear
Can scarcely be more bright.
The youngest bears a single plant,
One that herself has nursed;
A far exotic from the South,
The fairest and the first.
And they have tender hopes and fears
To claim the votive vow;
And parents, for whose precious sake
Their prayers are ready now.
Blest be their lovely pilgrimage,
Although they seek a shrine
Hallowed by a believing faith
Not unto us divine!
No banners in our humbler church
Are waved, no flowers are strown;
The sacrifice we offer up
Must in the heart be shown.
And that is much if truly given:
Our vanity and pride,
Our empty hopes, our fair deceits,
Must there be all denied.
