O little seed interred in earth
Thy wondrous change is wrought!
O butterfly, the chrysalis
Was once thy burial spot!
Both from a dark and gloomy grave
To life and beauty born
O moldering clay, thou too shalt have
A resurrection morn!
Thy wondrous change is wrought!
O butterfly, the chrysalis
Was once thy burial spot!
Both from a dark and gloomy grave
To life and beauty born
O moldering clay, thou too shalt have
A resurrection morn!
And lovelier shall the seraph be
Than butterfly or flower,
And holier shall the voices be
That bless that waking hour;
For though the butterfly and flower
May sink 'neath Winter's frost
And though their bright symbolic forms
May be forever lost
Yet when the soul shall gather up
The ashes of her clay
Man shall through endless years defy
The empire of decay.
Than butterfly or flower,
And holier shall the voices be
That bless that waking hour;
For though the butterfly and flower
May sink 'neath Winter's frost
And though their bright symbolic forms
May be forever lost
Yet when the soul shall gather up
The ashes of her clay
Man shall through endless years defy
The empire of decay.
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