Bland as the morning breath of June br The southwest breezes play; br And, through its haze, the winter noon br Seems warm as summer's day. br The snow-plumed Angel of the North br Has dropped his icy spear; br Again the mossy earth looks forth, br Again the streams gush clear. br br The fox his hillside cell forsakes, br The muskrat leaves his nook, br The bluebird in the meadow brakes br Is singing with the brook. br 'Bear up, O Mother Nature!' cry br Bird, breeze, and streamlet free; br 'Our winter voices prophesy br Of summer days to thee!' br br So, in those winters of the soul, br By bitter blasts and drear br O'erswept from Memory's frozen pole, br Will sunny days appear. br Reviving Hope and Faith, they show br The soul its living powers, br And how beneath the winter's snow br Lie germs of summer flowers! br br The Night is mother of the Day, br The Winter of the Spring, br And ever upon old Decay br The greenest mosses cling.