In snow each bush and plant stands blurred
In snow each bush and plant stands blurred,
outside the cold is stinging,
yet on a branch a little bird
by frozen pane is singing.
Soon time! soon time! – its glad song cleaves
the air, its small wings shaking, -
soon time! each branch will sprout new leaves
soon time! each flower be waking.
Soon time! and life’s tree will turn green,
though frost would fain subdue it,
soon time! and what was but a dream
you shall as truth then view it.
Soon time! and spirit’s winter sleep
will flee at summer’s glory,
soon time, God’s promised hour He’ll keep –
His fair realm ends the story.