William H. Simpson

OUT of darkness into light;

Out of dumbness into song!

Though the earth was wintry white,

Though the cold stayed over long—

Spring, we loved so, it has come

Without any sound of drum.

Be it life we knew last year,

Wandered far, and home once more;

Or a new babe, cradled here,

Born of life that went before—

We, who linger while the days

Shyly bud and bloom anew,

Are content that all the Mays

Faithful are, steadfast and true.