Sad-hearted, be at peace: the snowdrop lies br Buried in sepulchre of ghastly snow; br But spring is floating up the southern skies, br And darkling the pale snowdrop waits below. br br Let me persuade: in dull December's day br We scarce believe there is a month of June; br But up the stairs of April and of May br The hot sun climbeth to the summer's noon. br br Yet hear me: I love God, and half I rest. br O better! God loves thee, so all rest thou. br He is our summer, our dim-visioned Best;- br And in his heart thy prayer is resting now.