 | Easter Lilies for nineteen hundred and fifteen |  |
19
In Early Spring.
Still the music of the thrush
Wakes the morning;
Though our hearts would bid her hush
Her blithe warning,
Hearing through her joyous throat
Echoes of another note.
Wakes the morning;
Though our hearts would bid her hush
Her blithe warning,
Hearing through her joyous throat
Echoes of another note.
Still the flowers in woodland ways
Stand entreating,
Though our eyes' averted gaze
Give no greeting,
Fearing 'neath that tender blue
Memories of another hue.
Stand entreating,
Though our eyes' averted gaze
Give no greeting,
Fearing 'neath that tender blue
Memories of another hue.
20
But the Giver of the Spring
Never stayeth
For our sullen looks one thing,
Nor delayeth,
Lest Despair take Sorrow's place,
Saying, God too hides His face!
Never stayeth
For our sullen looks one thing,
Nor delayeth,
Lest Despair take Sorrow's place,
Saying, God too hides His face!
| Easter Lilies for nineteen hundred and fifteen | |