 | Louise de la Valliaere and other poems |  |
79
EASTERTIDE.
To me sweet Easter cometh fair and bright,
Bringing exceeding joyaunce and delight,
For the new time comes, clothèd as a bride,
And the sad grey days vanish utterly;
Comes the young Spring, knee-deep in shining flowers,
And the old earth rejoiceth through the hours:
She hath forgotten her fairest ones that died,
When the fierce winter blighted flower and tree.
Bringing exceeding joyaunce and delight,
For the new time comes, clothèd as a bride,
And the sad grey days vanish utterly;
Comes the young Spring, knee-deep in shining flowers,
And the old earth rejoiceth through the hours:
She hath forgotten her fairest ones that died,
When the fierce winter blighted flower and tree.
Somewhere while small glad waters croon a song,
And a soft wind is captive all day long,
I know the violet's feet are lately set,
And the pale primrose star of hope hath risen.
About the land the grave large hills are blue,
And the great trees grow emerald green of hue,
For now each curled babe-leaf begins to fret,
Waking and stirring in its cradle-prison.
And a soft wind is captive all day long,
I know the violet's feet are lately set,
And the pale primrose star of hope hath risen.
About the land the grave large hills are blue,
And the great trees grow emerald green of hue,
For now each curled babe-leaf begins to fret,
Waking and stirring in its cradle-prison.
80
Now from our slow delicious northern spring,
In paschal days my thoughts are wandering
Unto that Orient land, bloom-bright and warm;
Where the dear Jesus walked in days of old;
I think all things, in these dim mystic days,
Grew fair with full delight before his face,
Bloomed the grey desert, azure grew the storm,
And the skies shone in newer rose and gold.
In paschal days my thoughts are wandering
Unto that Orient land, bloom-bright and warm;
Where the dear Jesus walked in days of old;
I think all things, in these dim mystic days,
Grew fair with full delight before his face,
Bloomed the grey desert, azure grew the storm,
And the skies shone in newer rose and gold.
The air was sweet with music of harp-strings,
And the white sudden flash of angels' wings,
As the high sentinels passed that guarded Him.
The birds sang faint for rapture in the sky,
The small meek flowers about His pathway lay
Flushed with desire that in some gracious day
He in His healing hands might gather them,
Or that beneath His feet their hearts might lie.
And the white sudden flash of angels' wings,
As the high sentinels passed that guarded Him.
The birds sang faint for rapture in the sky,
The small meek flowers about His pathway lay
Flushed with desire that in some gracious day
He in His healing hands might gather them,
Or that beneath His feet their hearts might lie.
| Louise de la Valliaere and other poems | |