| Alfred H. Miles, ed. The Sacred Poets of the Nineteenth Century. 1907. | | | The Prisoner of Love (1904).
VIII. Spring | | By Frederick William Orde Ward (1843–1922) |
| | | | “I see a rod of an almond (wakeful) tree…. Then said the Lord,… I will hasten (am wakeful over) my word to perform it.” |
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THE ALMOND tree breaks into flower, | |
| It feels the springtide’s pulse and power | |
| Through all its quickening frame; | |
| Along each branch its blossoms run | |
| And catch the kisses of the sun, | 5 |
| Bodied in bliss and flame. | |
| And once more Aaron’s prophet rod, | |
| Blooms at the bidding of its God. | |
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| Lo, every bird is now a song | |
| The fresher for its silence long, | 10 |
| And every leaf a lay; | |
| The tiniest blade of trembling grass | |
| Laughs as it feels the Spirit pass, | |
| A green and living ray. | |
| Up in its heaven of blue, the lark | 15 |
| Rains music from the dazzling dark. | |
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| Dear Father, may I feel Thy Spring | |
| At heart, and in each upward wing | |
| Of happy prayer and praise; | |
| O make my soul burst into love | 20 |
| Rising to Thee my Home above, | |
| And others with it raise. | |
| Yea, let new shoots of stronger trust | |
| Leap up, like altar fires, from dust. | | | |
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