The calendar says the first day of spring is coming and the robins have returned. The snow has retreated and green shoots are peeking up from the ground. In spring's honor I'm posting a poem by Emily Dickensen.
THE WAKING YEAR.
A lady red upon the hill
Her annual secret keeps;
A lady white within the field
In placid lily sleeps!
The tidy breezes with their brooms
Sweep vale, and hill, and tree!
Prithee, my pretty housewives!
Who may expected be?
The neighbors do not yet suspect!
The woods exchange a smile —
Orchard, and buttercup, and bird —
In such a little while!
And yet how still the landscape stands,
How nonchalant the wood,
As if the resurrection
Were nothing very odd!
2 comments:
What a beautiful poem. I'm getting spring fever. It's been a long winter this year. My neighbor's crocus blooms are already popping out. Spring is a time when God paints us a beautiful picture of his abundant love.
Good work.
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