Classic Poem

O yearly miracle of good!
The crocus springs, the violets peep,
The dandelion gems the sod,
The straggling vines begin to creep.

The rain may fall in constant showers,
The south-wind tarry on its way,—
But come the Summer's fragrant hours,
Advancing through the night and day.

And though the north-wind force him back,
The song-bird hurries from the south,
Studding with songs his airy track,
All Summer's music in his mouth.

So, Father, shall it be with me!
Whether the winds blow foul or fair,
Still will I struggle up to thee,
Through want and woe and toil and care.

What though my winter days be long,
And brighter skies refuse to come?
My life shall yet be full of song,
And yet shall know the summer bloom!