Come, turning, waking April earth,
rejoice with me in Life's own season!
No shuttle days go back and forth
in vain from Mind to mortal reason.
Spirit's steady zenith brings
the radically radiant hour
when I discern the secret springs
in rocks, and wilderness is flower.
No winter lingers on which I
must lay behind in heavy striving,—
no aftermath timidity,
no slow atonement and arriving.
Life's season is the summit now,
the being, hereness, of reflection,
the all-mature and noontide glow
abiding in divine perfection.
I am at one with God. He knows
His changeless, ageless diapason
in every song. Elixir flows
through living years to all creation.
His peak of season is my stay,
my love, my warmth, and my rewarding
light each moment of His day,
which April earths keep on recording.
