64
FORETASTES.
It was but a few hours of spring's early gladness,
Borne over the land on the zephyr's soft wing,
But we gave them our welcome, and knew that earth's sadness
Was waning, and summer new pleasures would bring.
Borne over the land on the zephyr's soft wing,
But we gave them our welcome, and knew that earth's sadness
Was waning, and summer new pleasures would bring.
It was but a moment that after long dulness
The sunlight gleamed forth through the rift in the cloud,
But it bade us hope on, till the sun in his fulness
Should shine and put from him his cumbersome shroud.
The sunlight gleamed forth through the rift in the cloud,
But it bade us hope on, till the sun in his fulness
Should shine and put from him his cumbersome shroud.
It was but a bud that had scarcely unfolded,
When frost-winds swept by and it withered away,
But it came as a token of thousands yet folded,
Whose leaves should expand on a not distant day.
When frost-winds swept by and it withered away,
But it came as a token of thousands yet folded,
Whose leaves should expand on a not distant day.
It was but a bird's lonely note ere the dawning
Had streaked the dull sky with its roseate flush,
But we knew it a prelude of song in the morning,
When earth should be gladdened with music's full gush.
Had streaked the dull sky with its roseate flush,
But we knew it a prelude of song in the morning,
When earth should be gladdened with music's full gush.
It was but an hour of enraptured communion,
Then cares pressed around and the transport had fled,
But new earnest it gave of eternal reunion,
With Him whom we hail as our glorious Head.
Then cares pressed around and the transport had fled,
But new earnest it gave of eternal reunion,
With Him whom we hail as our glorious Head.
