Christ Is Risen
Within the copse a rush of wings;
The air is tremulous with bliss,
For Spring has given the rose a kiss.
The palms are sad, and bleak, and sear,
Are very desolate and drear,
A dash of snow, a fitful breeze,
A timid moan among the trees.
Poor heart! you weep, you cry: "Alas!
We know not what has come to pass,
We know not life nor anything,
But hope that somewhere love is king."
Behold! the morning stars shine clear
Athwart the east; a song we hear:
"Good will to men, sweet peace on earth"___
'Tis the dear good Christ child's birth.
Perhaps it does but falsely seem,
(If this be dreaming, let us dream!)
That God is good, and God is love,
And Christ descended from above.
___William H. Simpson