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Where is that healing plant the ancients fable?
Moly they named it; all the flower was white,
And the root black; and the clear juice was able
To heal all wounds, to put all ills to flight.


It blooms about us still. Yet does it borrow
Beauty and grace from no mere earthly sod.
Deep in the soul, from the black root of sorrow,
Grows the white perfect flower of Trust in God.