Waiting so long in the earth-dark low,
Flower-seeds, do you but hope, or know,
The glory to which you shall some time grow?
Whether by hope or foreknowledge blest,
Upward and outward the plantlet pressed:
This is the text. Do we need the rest?
Is this your heaven, this world of ours,
Here where you bloom into lovely flowers
After your groping and toilsome hours?
From: https://dvpp.uvic.ca/poems/atalanta/1888/pom_1770_an_easter_text.html
Date: 1888
By: Anne Emilie Poulsson (1853-1939)
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