Over vales and fields,
lies a garden afar.
_The beauty of its three flowers _
call to me.
_So I travel winding road _
for a day to gaze upon,
to joy in,
and to learn from them.
_The first, a bright crocus, _ _puts springtime delight _ _in a heart shivering over _ _her wintry surroundings._ _As I bow to smell _ _her playful fragrance,_ _and feel chubby, little petals against my cheek,_ _I wonder how one so small_ _- and too far away -_ _can put such great love_ _in a grandfather's heart?_
My next flower is a bold tulip -
how colorful, grace-filled, and statuesque she stands!
The snows melt away
before her charming aroma,
her radiant joy,
and the musical glory of springtime
_ she sends forth heavenward._
The father longs for the times
his tulip was in garden near;
_yet gives thanks that __Another _
cares for her so well.
_The last flower, a fading red rose,_ _has drooping head_ _and slowly dropping petals._ _The cruel winter_ _has been so very hard upon her._ _Yet the season of long cold_ _has removed her thorns_ _that made it so very hard_ _to draw near._ _Now the son sees in her _ _the favored color_ _of her Gardener,_ _ and smells from her<span style="line-height: 1.5;"> a sweet aroma</span>_ _from a garden_ _yet further still._
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