In every trembling bud and bloom <br />That cleaves the earth, a flowery sword, <br />I see Thee come from out the tomb, <br />Thou risen Lord. <br /> <br />In every April wind that sings <br />Down lanes that make the heart rejoice; <br />Yea, in the word the wood-thrush brings, <br />I hear Thy voice. <br /> <br />Lo! every tulip is a cup <br />To hold Thy morning's brimming wine; <br />Drink, O my soul, the wonder up--- <br />Is it not Thine? <br /> <br />The great Lord God, invisible, <br />Hath roused to rapture the green grass; <br />Through sunlit mead and dew-drenched dell, <br />I see Him pass. <br /> <br />His old immortal glory wakes <br />The rushing streams and emerald hills; <br />His ancient trumpet softly shakes <br />The daffodils. <br /> <br />Thou art not dead! Thou art the whole <br />Of life that quickens in the sod; <br />Green April is Thy very soul, <br />Thou great Lord God.<br /><br />Charles Hanson Towne<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-easter-canticle/
