The Great May

Who said the Spring was dead? She would not come again, Dust on her starry head, For a sad world in pain? The thing they have said in vain, She comes new garlanded: Lovely on hill and plain Her lights, her flowers are shed. Never was such a May! Mercy of God, to prove Life springs from the clay And every treasured love Walks in a heavenly grove. The Lord God's holiday To the soft coo of the dove With the young lambs at play. Lo! yours, and yours, are there, I see them leap and run In a May-world past compare Whereof our God is sun. They rejoice, yea, every one In the ambient light and air, Their pleasures are not done From morn till evening star. Never was such a Spring! Oh, you whose eyes are wet, Listen, take comforting, Our God does not forget. Poor folk that fear and fret Your hours are on the wing To the loves that wait you yet, Raised up and triumphing.