Classic Poem

The fairest flowers that grow on this dark earth,
White as snowflakes as they downward fly,
Sinless, spotless as a babe at birth,
Too pure to live, too beautiful to die.

Crush'd beneath a tyrant's heel awhile,
Undaunted, lying there in deadly pain;
The day will dawn when they, in sunshine's smile
Will proudly raise their drooping heads again.

Take the wounded lilies from the ground,
Twine them in a sweetly fragrant wreath,
And lay them on the little grassy mound;
A hero, still unconquer'd, lies beneath.