Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs By Walter Thornbury. Illustrated by J. Whistler, F. Walker, John Tenniel, J. D. Watson, W. Small, F. Sandys, G. J. Pinwell, T. Morten, M. J. Lawless, and many others |
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Easter Sunday in the Country.
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 | Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs |  |
Easter Sunday in the Country.
A Sabbath calm is on the fields,
No ploughman drives his team abreast;
And in the pure blue silent air
There reigns a sanctity of rest.
Type of Christ breaking from His tomb,
The lark is rising through the gloom.
No ploughman drives his team abreast;
And in the pure blue silent air
There reigns a sanctity of rest.
Type of Christ breaking from His tomb,
The lark is rising through the gloom.
O'er corn and fallow, lawn and slope,
I hear the blessed Sabbath bell,
And, standing on the down, I mark
The wandering music lour and swell.
Thro' yellow clouds the lark has risen,
Like one new broken from Death's prison.
I hear the blessed Sabbath bell,
And, standing on the down, I mark
The wandering music lour and swell.
Thro' yellow clouds the lark has risen,
Like one new broken from Death's prison.
The birds are springing from the corn
To hail the happy Easter-time;
From Winter's tomb breaks forth the Spring,
The year will soon be in its prime;
The lark in sunlight glorified,
At death and sorrow doth deride.
To hail the happy Easter-time;
From Winter's tomb breaks forth the Spring,
The year will soon be in its prime;
The lark in sunlight glorified,
At death and sorrow doth deride.
Night's shadows still are on the watch,
Like soldiers guarding round a grave;
The lark it soars exulting up,
Like Him who came to bless and save,
And rises on this morn of May
Type of the Resurrection-day.
Like soldiers guarding round a grave;
The lark it soars exulting up,
Like Him who came to bless and save,
And rises on this morn of May
Type of the Resurrection-day.
Just where the grey clouds melt to rose,
Between earth and yon burning red,
The blessed bird goes soaring on,
Singing to us so cold and dead.
Soaring where red cloud joins the blue,
Piercing resistless through and through.
Between earth and yon burning red,
The blessed bird goes soaring on,
Singing to us so cold and dead.
Soaring where red cloud joins the blue,
Piercing resistless through and through.
I see the faces ruddy brown,
The maidens with their hair so sheen,
With kindly welcome and with smile,
They cluster on the village green.
Hark! in the air the angels sing
In chorus, glorifying Spring.
The maidens with their hair so sheen,
With kindly welcome and with smile,
They cluster on the village green.
Hark! in the air the angels sing
In chorus, glorifying Spring.
Now far away the old, old bells
Call to us o'er the russet leas;
O'er squared-out fields, and fallows dark,
Long winding lanes, and marshalled trees,
From the grey spire that from the graves
Points to the God who hears and saves.
Call to us o'er the russet leas;
O'er squared-out fields, and fallows dark,
Long winding lanes, and marshalled trees,
From the grey spire that from the graves
Points to the God who hears and saves.
| Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs | |