Great deathly powers have passed: The black and bitter cold, the wind That broke and felled strong trees, the rind Of ice that held at last Even the fleshly heart In cold that made it seem a stone. And now there comes again the one First Sabbath light, the Art That unruled, uninvoked, Unknown, makes new again and heals, Restores heart’s flesh so that it feels Anew the old deadlocked Goodness of its true home That it will lose again and mourn, Remembering the year reborn In almost perfect bloom In almost shadeless wood, Sweet air that neither burned nor chilled In which the tenderest flowers
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Renewal. Rebirth. Hope. Spring. Resurrection.
