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.