Classic Poem

Love's peace is in her pure young heart,
Love's light is on her face,
She carries sunshine in her eyes
To many a shady place.

For aught she has of good and sweet
She only seeks to share;
She lends her loving strength to all
The crosses others bear.

Her posies cheer the sufferer's bed,
The city workshop's gloom,
She has a wreath to lay upon
The stranger's lonely tomb.

Through every gentle deed she does
Love's soft aroma steals,
The weary heart grows fresh again,
The wounded spirit heals.

And when she wanders through the woods
In morning's dewy hour,
Standing amid the flowers we see
Herself the fairest flower!