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Gather the wild flowers from sunniest slopes,
Bring them to me with their wealth of perfume,
Cheering as happiness, charming as hope;
What varied phases of joy they assume!


Gather the wild flowers, a crown I would wreathe,
Crown thee a queen on this gray, mossy stone;
Did ever princess a purer air breathe?
Had ever queen a more beautiful throne?


Gather the wild flowers beneath the tall trees,
Bright wayside beauties and gems from the lake,
Rare floral bells from the arched canopies
What lovely garlands their bright faces make!


Sweet woodland children, ye bloom for a day,
Symbols of love and bright emblems of trust;
Twilight falls softly, ye wither away,
Other days dawn, ye have moldered to dust.


In the rich garden a gorgeous array
Coquette with sunbeams through long Summer hours,
But a less generous master have they,
These rustic treasures of God's own free flowers.


Gather the wild flowers for rich and for poor,
Lowliest cottage or stateliest hall,
Childhood and old age their bright smiles allure,
Free as the sunbeams, they blossom for all.


Gather the wild flowers, Spring's purest pleasure,
Beautiful harvest for little brown hands,
Singing and laughing o'er each new-found treasure
Let your glad voices float over all lands.


And when some Spring day, all peaceful and still
Calmly I sleep where the tall grasses wave,
While the warm sunbeams kiss river and hill
Gather the wild flowers to lay on my grave.