Jones Very (1813–1880)

THOU lookest up with meek, confiding eye

Upon the clouded smile of April’s face,

Unharmed though Winter stands uncertain by,

Eying with jealous glance each opening grace.

Thou trustest wisely! In thy faith arrayed

More glorious thou than Israel’s wisest king;

Such faith was his whom men to death betrayed

As thine who hear’st the timid voice of Spring,

While other flowers still hide them from her call

Along the river’s brink and meadows bare.

Thee will I seek beside the stony wall

And in thy trust with childlike heart would share,

O’erjoyed that in thy early leaves I find

A lesson taught by him who loved all human kind.