Sparkling rich with froth and bubble.
I forget the want and trouble,
Buried deep within my heart.
Where is he who lingered here.
But a little while agone ?
From my homestead he has flown,
From the city aped alone,
Dwelling in the forest drear.
Oh come again, to those who wait thee long,
And who will greet thee with a choral song !
Beloved, kindle bright
Once more thine everlasting light
Through thee, oh cherub with protecting wings,
My glory out of darkness springs.
II.
Crocus and spikenard blossom on my lawn,
The brier fades, the thistle is withdrawn.
Behold, where glass-clear brooks are Sowing,
The splendor of the myrtle blowing !
The garden-tree has doffed her widow's veil,
And shines in festal garb, in verdure pale.
The turtle-dove is cooing, hark !
Is that the warble of the lark !
Unto their perches they return again.
Oh brothers, carol forth your joyous strain,
Pour out full-throated ecstasy of mirth,
Proclaiming the Lord's glory to the earth.
