And He who clothes the tender grass,
And decks the lily fair;
Will twine for you immortal flowers,
With His abiding care.
A CALL TO SPRING
Where art thou, tardy Spring?
E’en while my song I sing
Thou shouldst be with us.
O, couldst thou only see
What welcome waiteth thee,
In field and forest.
Art held by winter fast,
And hast not power to cast
Off his rude shackles?
Too long has been his reign,
Summon thy fairy train,
Charge him to loose thee.
Come to thy woodland bower,
Green grass and op’ning flower
Will spring to greet thee.
Red-vested troubadour
Hath left a sunny shore,
That he may cheer thee.
Blue-coated minstrelsy
Waiteth impatiently
For thy glad coming.
Sweet are the songs they sing,
As on impatient wing
Gaily they flutter.