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Alfred H. Miles, ed. The Sacred Poets of the Nineteenth Century. 1907.

By The Prisoner of Love (1904). VIII. Spring

Frederick William Orde Ward (1843–1922)

  • “I see a rod of an almond (wakeful) tree…. Then said the Lord,… I will hasten (am wakeful over) my word to perform it.”
  • Jer. i. 11, 12.

  • THE ALMOND tree breaks into flower,

    It feels the springtide’s pulse and power

    Through all its quickening frame;

    Along each branch its blossoms run

    And catch the kisses of the sun,

    Bodied in bliss and flame.

    And once more Aaron’s prophet rod,

    Blooms at the bidding of its God.

    Lo, every bird is now a song

    The fresher for its silence long,

    And every leaf a lay;

    The tiniest blade of trembling grass

    Laughs as it feels the Spirit pass,

    A green and living ray.

    Up in its heaven of blue, the lark

    Rains music from the dazzling dark.

    Dear Father, may I feel Thy Spring

    At heart, and in each upward wing

    Of happy prayer and praise;

    O make my soul burst into love

    Rising to Thee my Home above,

    And others with it raise.

    Yea, let new shoots of stronger trust

    Leap up, like altar fires, from dust.