Overpassing, bears away

Somewhat of the burden of this weary May.

Night by numbered night,

Waning, brings more near in sight

Hope that grows to vision of my heart's delight.

Nearer seems to burn

In the dawn's rekindling urn

Flame of fragrant incense, hailing his return.

Louder seems each bird

In the brightening branches heard

Still to speak some ever more delightful word.

All the mists that swim

Round the dawns that grow less dim

Still wax brighter and more bright with hope of him.

All the suns that rise

Bring that day more near our eyes

When the sight of him shall clear our clouded skies.

All the winds that roam

Fruitful fields or fruitless foam

Blow the bright hour near that brings his bright face home.

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