A garden of asters of varying hues,
Crimson pinks and violet blues,
Blossoming in the hazy fall
Wrapped in autumn's lazy pall.
But early frost stole in one night,
And like a chilling, killing blight
It touched each pretty aster's head,
And now the garden's still and dead.
And all the lovely flowers that bloomed
Will soon be buried and entombed
In winter's icy shroud of snow;
But oh, how wonderful to know
That after winter comes the spring
To breathe new life in everything.
And all the flowers that fell in death
Will be awakened by spring's breath ...
For in God's plan both men and flowers
Can only reach "bright, shining hours"
By dying first to rise in glory
And prove again the Easter story.