Hushed and snow-laden all around... Winter's cold dominion reigns... All of nature, bare and drowned, Waits for spring's return with pains. Sun will free her from this thrall, Gently warm her from on high... And the bells of song will call With the babbling brook's reply.
Now the earth in snowdrifts lies, Swaddled like a sleeping child, Drowsy, with a mournful guise, Listening to the wind so wild. Soon will spread such joy around, Gardens bloom with fragrant cheer, God will make all life profound— When the spring comes back next year.
