Foretelling so, the glimmer of thy bloom
The kindliest feast of all the saint-crowned year.
O happy year! that for its twilight crown
Wears the dim radiance of thy peaceful stars,
Hears song of angels, where no harsh note jars,
Filling the woods whence latest bird hath flown.
O wailing bloom! bud forth thy prophecies,
Thine earnest of a life fore’er renewed,
Thy light in darkness, with fair hope imbued,
Thy golden gift of love’s amenities.