The soul of a child is the loveliest flower
That grows in the garden of God
Its climb is from weakness to
knowledge and power,
To the sky from the clay and the clod.



To beauty and sweetness it grows under care,
Neglected, 'tis ragged and wild.
'Tis a plant that is tender, but wondrously rare,
The sweet, wistful soul of a child.



Be tender, O gardner, and give it its share
Of moisture, of warmth, and of light,
And let it not lack for the painstaking care,
To protect it from frost and from blight.



A glad day will come when its bloom shall unfold,
It will seem that an angel has smiled,
Reflecting a beauty and sweetness untold
In the sensitive soul of a child.

Author Unknown To Me