The Return Of Spring Poem by John Critchley Prince

How calm and how beneficent is God
To all His creatures in this world of ours!
Spring is returned with renovating powers,
To clear the sky, and fertilise the sod,
To make the expanded landscape greenly bright,
And fill the genial air with music and delight.

I, like a weather-beaten plant, have grown
Seedy and frail, the sport of every wind;
Yet in my daily watchfulness I find,
That in my weakness I am not alone—
Not an exception in the general plan,
But a still hopeful, striving, sinful, sorrowing man.

I long to wander where the old hills stand,
And where the woods will soon grow newly
green—
To mark the silent changes of the scene,
Made by the hallowed touch of God's own hand—
To see the resurrection and the life
Of countless earthly things with strength and beauty
rife.

I long to see the blithe lark soaring high,
And the sweet thrush on his accustomed tree—
To hear the loosened waters flowing free
Through places pleasant to the poet's eye—
To hear the murmur of the odorous breeze,
And the responsive sigh of congregated trees—

To hear the sportive children here and there
In lonely hamlets nestled in the vales—
To hear the agèd people telling tales
Of their own youth when everything was fair—
To hear the voices of great nature raise
A simultaneous hymn of thankfulness and praise.

What sinless pleasure to explore again
The fields bestarr'd with daisies far and wide—
The slender king-cup in its graceful pride
Holding its golden chalice for the rain—
The cowslip's bell, the dandelion's shield,
Lending their mingled hues to beautify the field.

What peaceful joy to find in woodland shades
The modest violet besprent with dews,
The fragrant primrose with its dainty hues,
And other floral sisters of the glades;
Birds, leaves, and flowers, colours and perfumes,
And all the rich array of spring's ambrosial blooms.

Lord and Creator of these wondrous things,
Oh! grant me health, that I may feel once more
Thy love and wisdom, as I felt of yore,
When I had many thoughts without their stings.
Oh! spare and strengthen me a little time,
That I may worship Thee, and read thy works
sublime.