SPRING.
I.
O grand, old Earth of God’s and ours,
Once more thou doffest winter’s veil,
Once more the budding trees and flowers
And birds’ sweet music bid thee hail!
II.
Is it a time for joy or care,
O Earth?—a time to laugh or weep?
What myriads in thy bosom sleep,
And we shall soon lie sleeping there!
III.
O Earth! ’tis hard to understand
Why thou should’st thus thy children crave!
For art thou not a mighty grave,
Though strewn with flowers by God’s good hand?