Welcome, unfailing herald of glad spring— Pipe on till balmy twilight meets the dawn. Little we know till from our side he's gone The treasures that a true friend daily brings. In bog reflecting heaven you wake and sing, And turn the world to music with your song. While lights of pleasure dance the hills among, And man all ways for peace is clamoring, Thou little joyful harbinger proclaim Again the promise of a fruitful land; And while man blindly strives for wealth and fame Thou in thy lowly place the wealth of earth command. Not breadth of place counts most, nor pride of name, But only pride and ardor for the task at hand. |