Poems (Proctor)/Easter Bells
EASTER BELLS.
Lent was dreary and late that year; April to May was going;But the loitering moon refused to round, And the wild south-east was blowing.
Day by day, from my window high, I watched, a lonely warder,For a building bird in the garden-trees Or a flower in the sheltered border.
But I only heard the chilly rain On the roof of my chamber beating,Or the wild sea-wind to the tossing boughs Its wail of wreck repeating;
And said, "Ah me! 'tis a weary world This cheerless April weather;The beautiful things will droop and die, Blossom and bird together."
At last the storm was spent. I slept, Lulled by the tired wind's sighing,—To wake at morn with the sunshine full On floor and garden lying;
And lo! the hyacinth buds were blown; A robin was blithely singing;The cherry-blooms by the wall were white, And the Easter bells were ringing!
It was long ago, but the memory lives; And in all life's Lenten sorrows,When tempests of grief and trouble beat And I dread the dark to-morrows,
I think of the garden after the rain; And hope to my heart comes singing,"At morn the cherry-blooms will be white, And the Easter bells be ringing!"