1 My pretty flowers have come again,
See how the violets grow;
And all the plants which late have been,
All cover'd o'er with snow.
2 I felt quite sure the leaves would peep
Again above the ground,
Although the roots were buried deep,
And not a stem was found.
3 Mamma says when the grave shall close
O'er you, dear sis, and I,
We, like our sweet fading rose,
Shall only seem to die.
4 I know, my mother tells me true,
I'm not afraid to go
To God, who showers my plants with dew,
And covers them with snow.Source: Linden Harp: a rare collection of popular melodies adapted to sacred and moral songs, original and selected. Illustrated. Also a manual of... #152a