a4 MYSTERIES:
I have had hope in the spring—
Trust that the God who has given
Flowers, and the thrushes that sing
Dawnwards
all night, and at even
Year after year, will be true now we are speaking of
heaven.
Breezes caress me and creep
Over the world to admire it;
Sweet air shall sigh me to sleep,
Softly my lips shall respire it,
Lying half-closed with a kiss ready for who shall
desire it.