How fair the morning glow of Spring

when sunshine hikes the eastern hills

and summits in the dark of night,

breathing out the hopeful light. 

Our hearts with awe, it stills,

as it wakes the slumbering birds to sing.

 

Across the fields the daffodils 

unfold—a sign of pledges kept

through winter’s long and harsh reprise:

again the stars of earth will rise

where last year’s waned, then slept, 

buried on the grassy hills.

 

And suddenly the nights we wept

have gone, like dirt swept from the hills.

The Lord did not forget to sow

the seeds or how to make them grow!

And bowing with the daffodils, 

we marvel how our ways He kept.