The gloomy winter now is o'er, The storks are back again, The song of birds is heard once more, And nests are built amain. The leaves so fair Steal forth to air, The flowers give promise good; The brooks awake, And like a snake Wind glittering through the wood. | The streams are smiling in the light, And all the tiny rills, The little daughters silver-white Of mighty rocks and hills, In rapid throng Now shoot along Like arrows on their way; Nor lack they voice That can rejoice As with the stones they play. | 243 Diana, huntress pure and proud, And wave and wood-nymphs all, Now laugh and sport, a merry crowd, Where greenwood shadows fall; The sun shines down To gild her crown And fills with darts her quiver; Her swiftest steed Runs loose with speed By smoothest road and river. | The summer winds, those youths so fair On whispering wings who glide, Sport with the nymphs in ambient air As on light clouds they ride. Each tree and bough Its utmost now Of wealth has all displayed, That bird and beast When heat-oppressed May hide in cooling shade. | The birds' sweet minstrelsy anew Its "tirra-lirra" sings, And many a branch makes music too As on the breeze it swings; Each slender spray Doth bend and sway In time to that sweet tune, And many a lute And warbling flute Is heard beneath the moon. | 244 Where'er one gazes, far and near, The world is gay and bright, All hearts are filled with gladsome cheer, With hope and quick delight; 'Tis I alone Still grieve and moan, No end my sorrow finds, Since Thee to me, And me to Thee, Thy troth, O Jesu, binds. | O Jesu, it is only I In constant grief must be, 'Tis I alone must mourn and sigh, For I am not with Thee! Ah constant grief Without relief If we must dwell apart! O bitter lot To see Thee not, How sore it wounds my heart! | Nought in the world can give me joy But only Jesu's love, All sport and pleasure but annoy Till He the veil remove: With many a cry I call Him nigh For many a weary hour, Yet never hear His step draw near; Ah well these tears may shower! | For what avails the lovely spring, The sunshine and the light, The silver brooklet's joyous ring, The trees so fair bedight, The balmy wind With breath so kind, The soft meandering stream, The birds' clear song, The May-day long, The meadow's emerald gleam? | 245 What all the joy, the sport, the play, The happy earth can show? Without Him grief is mine alway, And pain and pining woe. So sore this smart It breaks my heart, If Him I may not find; For Him I weep, And reft of sleep Breathe sighs on every wind. | Farewell, O spring-time, rosy dawns, Fields, forests decked anew, Foliage and flowers and grassy lawns All wet with sweetest dew, Streams flowing by, Clear azure sky, Darts of the golden sun! Full well I know That grief and woe O'er me have triumph won. | O Jesu, Jesu, faithful Lord, Why grieve this heart so sore? Wilt Thou not now Thy help afford? Look on me, I implore, For penitence And pain would hence In one swift moment flee, If but these eyes With sweet surprise Might rest, dear Lord, on Thee! 246 | |