Caroline Lewis
When flowers fade into the fall,
Death’s heavy shadow is cast—
If green things end in gloom this way,
Then surely Gold is past.
We look at tree or flow’r or self
And see how fast they fade,
But that gold is just an echo
Of the Gold that was not made.
Though leaf subsides to leaf to dust,
Through dust, new tree is born;
And dawn goes down to day and night,
But night gives way to morn.
Though Eden sank deep down to grief,
His flowers He doth raise—
The Son turns shining face on us,
Green struck by golden rays.
We grow up to the sky, green trees,
Like trees we fall again,
And through that death is Life anew,
Love’s somber crucifixion.
Green was made by Gold, for Gold,
And surely not in vain,
Though Eden’s green soon turneth dull,
Despite dust, Gold remains.
Nothing green can stay, it’s true,
But green by Gold begins;
Though nature’s colors all shall pass,
Tis Gold that never ends.
