Never yet was a springtime,
Late though lingered the snow,
That the sap stirred not at the whisper
Of the south wind, sweet and low;
Never yet was a springtime
When the buds forgot to blow.
Ever the wings of the summer
Are folded under the mold;
Life that has known no dying,
Is Love’s, to have and to hold,
Till, sudden, the burgeoning Easter!
The song! the green and the gold!
~ Margaret E. Sangster
In tracing the shade, I shall find out the sun.
~ Owen Meredith
Almighty God, grant that as the fulfillment of the green comes to the withered grass, so thy restoring may come to me with the glory of life that comes in the resurrection of the soul. I trust thee to bring me out of winter’s seal, that I may help make the spring. Amen.