RESURGAM.

Swift pass the hours, or lengthened by our hearts

Uncertain measurement of time,

And when we dream the year has just awoke,

We wake to find her in her prime.

We sadden with the dying Autumn leaves,

Yet falling seeds their promise bring;

Through long dark Winter days we only wait

A resurrection in the coming Spring.

Within each hour the precious minutes lie

Like seeds awaiting Spring's first breath,

God's harvest-time shall show us if they bear

The flowers of life or death.