Voice all the praise of the roses, O bells of the lily which rung
The holiday signal for the world, heard by my heart and me!
The earth it was weary of winter, of the frost and the tingling snow,
Of winds which blew from the icy Pole, daunting the faint sun-ray;
And the pulse of life beat fainter, and the fire of hope burned low,
And we yearned for thy coming, summer, and thou wert so far away.
Then the shy, cool noon shone warmer, and the shrunken veins of earth
Pulsed with a quicker current which glowed in the willow’s stem,
And the frozen graves were opened, and death gave place to birth,
And the drowsy flowers reared their heads, and called the birds to them.