We gaze upon the apple-flower in bud,
Knowing decay will brown the pink-hued bloom
We see a summer morning's sunshine-flood,
Destined to meet the tempest and the gloom ;
We mark the radiant course of youth's hot blood,
Thinking how Death will chill it in the tomb :
And sadly ponder each, remembering
The winter that lies hid in every spring.
Yet from the frozen ground at last uprise
The virgin snowdrops, pushing through the earth;
At last the sun breaks through the clouded skies,
To fat the soil and chase December's dearth ;
Even from the grave where man's poor body lies
A fair and glorious hope restores our mirth ;
And life and pleasure, flower and sunshine, show
The spring that lies beneath each winter's snow.