On Receiving A Bow Of Spring Flower In London

So the old, dear freemasonry goes on--
The busy life, the laughter-under-sod,
The leafy hosts with spear and gonfalon
Guarding the earthy mysteries of God.

I did not think the violets came so soon,
Yet here are five, and all my room is sweet;
And here's an aconite--a golden moon
Shining where all her raying leaflets meet;

And here a snowdrop, finely veined--ah, see!
Fresh from the artist's hand, and folded close:
She only waits the sunshine and the bee;
Then she will open like a golden rose.