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Oh, take this pansy blossom,
And study well its face;
Dost thou not feel its power?
Canst thou not sense a trace
Of spirit life all joyous?
Canst thou not feel the soul--
The soul that is within it--
The power which doth control?


All life hath joy in living,
And soul may be its dower.
You wound the heart of parent
When pluck you tiny flower.
The wound is healed by nature,
Not broken is a heart.
The flower may grace your corsage--
One moment do its part--


Then fade perhaps in anguish,
Its home is not your breast,
'Twas plucked by hand most ruthless;
Its mother's home was best.
A link doth bind all nature.
Who knoweth its strong power?
Life closely is united,
E'en man to smallest flower.


O'er all is God the Father,
Each link helps form the chain,
"Not even sparrow falleth,"
Nor flower bloom in vain.
In earth-life or in heaven
We never can be free;
The chain cannot be broken
Through all eternity.