The roses bloom for me more beautifully
Year by year;
More fragrantly the lilies of the valley
Breathe their balm;
Bird song is dearer every spring's arriving.
Can't you hear
The warbler's ecstasy anew proclaiming,
"Spring—it is here!"
Why should your heart, remembering ancient sorrows,
Itself bemoan?
From out the winter-chastened earth are springing
Violets;
All things are new—a new heart may be chosen
For heart of stone,
And softly, freshly, out of it be growing
Joy—your own!
The budding vines are tender, lucent, giving
A goodly smell;
"Better than wine" the scent of briar roses,
And mignonette,
And linden bloom. How blessed the creator
His joy to tell!
The years renew our joy in Him who doeth
All things well.
