And with a pitying rush come back to visit it once more.
We saw the freshening forces rise in every yellowing stem,
In budding oak and tasselled larch and scarlet maple gem.
Inch after inch, wave following wave, it rose on every side;
And now the tide is at its flood, the blessed summer-tide.
For every ebb there comes a flow; brave hearts can smile at both.
The waters come, the waters go; we watch them, nothing loath.
Led by a hand invisible, their bright waves seem to sing,
“The Lord who rules the winter is the Lord who sends the spring!”