WHO loveth whom He chasteneth
Hath smote the earth again
With golden rods of sunshine
And silver rods of rain.
Our little laughing sister
Hath doffed and put away
The black she wore for penance
And vvhite for Easterday.
She binds her hair with cunning
And dons her gown of green
That all the flowers embroider
And all the dews wash clean.
Her golden-throated skylark
That sings and soars so high
With praise and adoration
Perfects the splendid sky.
For seed and soul that quicken
By Him have death withstood
Who blessed the whole Creation
And saw that it was good.
