Once glistering green,
With dewy sheen,
And summer glory round them cast
Now black and bare,
The trees stand there,
And mourn their beauty that is past.
Look, leaf by leaf,
Each leaf a grief,
The hand of Autumn strips them bare.
No sound nor cry,
As they fall and die,
Because they know that Life is there.
So stiff and strong,
The winter long,
All uncomplaining stand the trees.
God make my life,
Through all its strife,
As true to Spring as one of these.
So would I stand,
Serene and grand,
While age strips off the joys of youth;
Because I know
That, as they go,
My soul draws nearer to the Truth.
He is the Truth,
In very sooth,
The Word made flesh, who dwelt with men,
And the world shall ring
With the song of Spring,
When thy soul turns to its Lord again.
When God’s soft breath,
That men call death,
Falls gently on thy closing eyes,
Thy youth, that goes
Like the red June rose,
Shall burst to bloom in Paradise.