(SONG OF SOLOMON, ii. 12.)
Now the winter cold is past,
And blithe March winds are blowing,
In sheltered nooks we find at last
Bright flowers of spring are growing.
Along the hedge-row’s mossy bank,
Where ivy green is creeping,
We see through weeds and nettles rank
The dark-blue vi-o-let peeping.
And in the sunny garden beds
Gay aconites are showing,
And snowdrops bend their graceful heads,
And crocuses are glowing.
God makes the buds and leaves unfold,–anonymous
All flowers are of His giving;
He guards them through the winter’s cold,
He cares for all things living.