Charles Hanson Towne
An Easter Canticle
In every trembling bud and bloom
That cleaves the earth, a flowery sword,
I see Thee come from out the tomb,
Thou risen Lord.
In every April wind that sings
Down lanes that make the heart rejoice;
Yea, in the word the wood-thrush brings,
I hear Thy voice.
Lo! every tulip is a cup
To hold Thy morning's brimming wine;
Drink, O my soul, the wonder up---
Is it not Thine?
The great Lord God, invisible,
Hath roused to rapture the green grass;
Through sunlit mead and dew-drenched dell,
I see Him pass.
His old immortal glory wakes
The rushing streams and emerald hills;
His ancient trumpet softly shakes
Thou art not dead! Thou art the whole
Of life that quickens in the sod;
Green April is Thy very soul,
Thou great Lord God.
Charles Hanson Towne's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (An Easter Canticle by Charles Hanson Towne )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
- Hooker Nadine Gordimer, Richard Thripp
- swallow, mina lotfi
- hey ass-wipe, i love you, Mandolyn ...
- The Mystery Of Word, Bazi alis Subrata Ray
- Men who see no day, Zimba Sundrogo
- Handsome and king, hasmukh amathalal
- Stoned by sadness, Nalini Chaturvedi
- The Goodness of a Life-mate (Section-6 .., rajendran muthiah
- Heart to, hasmukh amathalal
- An Ode to my Tree, Kelly Curiel