SPRING SONGS 115 



From my homestead he has flown, 



From the city sped alone, 



Dwelling in the forest drear. 

 Oh, come again, to those who wait thee long, 

 And who will greet thee with a choral song ! 

 Beloved, kindle bright 



Once more thine everlasting light. 

 Through thee, oh, cherub with protecting wings, 

 My glory out of darkness springs. 



ii 



Crocus and spikenard blossom on my lawn, 

 The briar fades, the thistle is withdrawn. 

 Behold, where glass-clear brooks are flowing, 

 The splendour of the myrtle blowing ! 

 The garden-tree has doffed her widow's veil, 

 And shines in festal garb, in verdure pale. 



The turtle-dove is cooing, hark ! 



Is that the warble of the lark ? 

 Unto their perches they return again. 

 Oh, brothers, carol forth your joyous strain, 

 Pour out full-throated ecstasy of mirth, 

 Proclaiming the Lord's glory to the earth. 



One with a low, sweet song, 



One echoing loud and long, 

 Chanting the music of a spirit strong. 

 In varied tints the landscape glows. 

 In rich array appears the rose. 

 While the pomegranate's wreath of green, 

 The gauzy red and snow-white blossoms screen. 

 Who loves it now rejoices for its sake, 

 And those are glad who sleep, and those who wake. 



