The slim trees don their bridal garments fair
All blushed with love for the returning sun,
And the world's stately mothers brood and flare,
Dab glad and misty eyes with green aprons;
Sweet, honeyed air, O gallant pageantry!
Whimsical, wild, hue of color and song,
Sap quickened, banishes long winter's ennui,
O holy beauty, renewal proves strong;
Now, spring's glories show a reflection poor,
A glimpse of wonders behind the facade,
Soon the wedding toast of the Lamb will pour,
All ecstasies will then be of our God.
So long the tilting sphere circles the sun,
Spring's feast will remind of the Coming One.