200
IN SPRING-TIME.
Like one refreshed by balmy sleep,
Her inmost bosom warm and deep
A-throb with beauty yet unborn,
Earth breathes away the blissful morn.
Her inmost bosom warm and deep
A-throb with beauty yet unborn,
Earth breathes away the blissful morn.
From sunny nooks that dream of bloom
To where gray moss o'ergrows the tomb,
Floats everywhere that precious breath—
The Life that ever conquers Death.
To where gray moss o'ergrows the tomb,
Floats everywhere that precious breath—
The Life that ever conquers Death.
This is the joy of Spring, indeed;
The witness glad to Word and Creed
The lovely Parable of Earth
That pointeth to Immortal Birth!
The witness glad to Word and Creed
The lovely Parable of Earth
That pointeth to Immortal Birth!
