In Spring, when sunlight gently falls
In golden heaps of dappled rays,
There open windows of recall
To other Springs in other days.
This Spring, on such a wistful day
'Twas out of love two freely gave
A gift of more than words could say:
A blooming rose to grace a grave.
Each Spring, that blooming rose's pow'r
For touching hearts will e'er suffice
To call to mind another flow'r,
Our rose who blooms in Paradise.
Copyright 1999 James McAlister
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