UNDERNEATH the south wind’s breathing,
From the fields the snow has fled;
All the children are rejoicing —
Christ is risen from the dead !
Brooks with happy voices murmur,
Boughs are budding overhead,
All the air is full of bird-songs —
Christ is risen from the dead !
Boys and girls wear festal raiment,
As in May the rose so red ;
Hatred from man’s heart is banished –
Christ is risen from the dead!
Christ is risen, all Nature tells us;
When, ah ! when shall it be said
Of thee also, O my country !
Thou art risen from the dead ?