They blossom brightly, straight and tall,
Against the mossy garden wall,
Beneath the poplar-trees;
The sunbeams kiss each golden face,
Their green leaves wave with airy grace,
In fresh September's breeze.
On one fair disc of gold and brown,
A purple butterfly lights down;
A sister-blossom yields
Her honey store, content to be
A late provider for the bee,
Flown here from clover fields.
Each dawning day, when climbs the sun,
And steadfast till his course is run,
These royal blossoms raise
Their grand, wide-opened, golden eyes,
To watch his journey through the skies,
Undaunted by his blaze.
The butterfly may sleep or soar,
The bee may steal their honey store,
But still the flowers gaze on.
With burning looks of changeless love,
Toward the day-god, high above,
Until the day is gone.
Fair maid beside the garden wall!
Thy lithe form copies, straight and tall,
The sunflower's stately grace:
The golden tresses of thine hair,
Like sunflower-rays do weave a fair
Bright halo round thy face.
And through their shadows looking down,
We find thine eyes of softest brown
Like sunflowercentres are;
We watch thee standing in the bloom,
The God-given sunflower of our home,
Yet meek as evening's star!
Ah, watching thus, high thoughts arise,
Deep thoughts, that fill our time-worn eyes
With fearful, hopeful tears.
God give thee sunshine on thy way!
God crown thy happy summer day
With peaceful autumn years!
In due time coming, on thy breast
Love's purple butterfly may rest,
And nestle close to thee;
And ere thy summer-time is o'er,
Thy sweetness may yield honey store,
For life's brown working-bee.
But evermore, though love should come
And fold his pinions in thine home,
Lift thy calm gaze above!
Mark thou the sunflower’s constant eye,
And follow through life’s changing sky,
The sun of faith and love.