In April, when the country lifted
Its winter-smitten face and shifted
From sombre tenderness to smiles
The sun-swept champaign's miles on miles
And melody made the morning rich—
Then Lords and Ladies lined the ditch
With the same spear-shaped leaves that stood,
Noble and meek, beneath the Rood,
Dappled with Jesus Christ His Blood.
As emulous of those unfurled swords