ON FINDING SPRING FLOWERS.
Ye flowers! springing up 'mid withered leaves;—
Birds! singing sweetly in your old dear homes;
How sweetly to the spirit that now grieves,
The hope that nature speaks in these scenes conies!
Birds! singing sweetly in your old dear homes;
How sweetly to the spirit that now grieves,
The hope that nature speaks in these scenes conies!
Joys shall arise above the frozen past,
Above the ruins of the sad long years;
We shall behold eternal spring at last
When Time is gone, and heaven's long day appears.
Above the ruins of the sad long years;
We shall behold eternal spring at last
When Time is gone, and heaven's long day appears.