Seeds like crimson beads On raffia ribbons, Like a schoolgirl's beaded braidsWhimsical swag of color,Dances in a palm tree,Sways to the music of the wind.

Morning Glory vine Runs on the garden gateBlossoms are new every morningLike the mercies of God.

When you think that life is gone.When there seems no hope.When you think nothing is stirringLife struggles up from somewhere deepAnd begins again, all new.