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.
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