Resurrection

Now the golden daffodil Lifts from earth his shining head That was lately frozen still In the gardens of the dead. Sing to the Lord a new song! Roundelays and virelays, Who hath slain Death and is young Master of your holidays. Now from places underground Gold and purple folk will go Haled by the shrill trumpet sound From their wormy beds below. Now the stone is from the tomb! Now 'tis Easter and the morn! Christ the Lord of Life is come, Hath slain Death, and Life is born. Christ the Lord of Life new-risen, Calls the sleepers that they rise-- From the unnumbered graves, break prison, Follow Him to Paradise. Who be then these shining ones Dancing with a heavenly mirth, The King's daughters, the King's sons, Fairer than the folk of earth? Graves are busier than a hive The wind blows, the sun is warm; Now the dead are come alive-- Loosed is many a golden swarm. Sing to the Lord a new song! The Sun's risen in our East; Christ the Lord of Life is young. And the young sit to the feast.