“Therefore, ye skylarks, in shivering circle still higher and higher
  Soar, and the palpitant blue drench with delirious dew. 
  Therefore, nightingale, lost in the leaves, or lone on the brier,
  Under the magic moon lift your tumultuous tune. 
  Therefore refresh you, faint hearts, take comfort, ye souls sorrow-stricken,
  Winning from nature relief, courage and counsel in grief,
  Judging that He, whose handmaid I am, out of death to requicken
  Year after year His earth into more exquisite birth,
  Shadows thereby to your souls through what drear and perilous places
  Into what Paradise blest beacons His searching behest—­
  Even the Heaven of Heavens where fond, long-hungered-for faces
  Into your own shall shine radiant with rapture divine.”

EASTER DAY, 1915

  I

  The stars die out on Avon’s watchful breast,
    While simple shepherds climb through shadows grey,
  With beating bosoms up the Wrekin’s Crest
    To see the sun “dance in” an Easter Day
  Whose dawning consummates three centuries—­
    Since Shakespeare’s death and entrance to the skies—­
  Resolved the radiant miracle not to miss
    Reserved alone to earliest opened eyes. 
  We, too, with faces set towards the East,
    Our joyful orison offerings yielding up
  Keep with our risen Lord His Pascal feast
    From Paten Blest and Consecrated Cup,
  And give Him thanks Who of all realms of Earth
  Made England richest by her Shakespeare’s birth.

  II

  “St. George for Merrie England!” let us cry
    And each a red rose pin upon his breast,
  Then face the foe with fearless front and eye
    Through all our frowning leaguer in the West. 
  For not alone his Patron Day it is
    Wherefrom our noble George hath drawn his name;
  Three centuries and a half gone by ere this;
    By Shakespeare’s birth it won a second fame. 
  A greater glory is its crown to-day
    Since at its first and faintest uttered breath
  A mighty angel rolled the stone away
    That sealed His tomb Who captive now leads death,
  And thereby did the great example give. 
  That they who die for others most shall live.

THE ASCENSION

    When Christ their Lord, to Heaven upraised,
      Was wafted from the Apostles’ sight,
    And upwards wistfully they gazed
      Into the far, blue Infinite,
  Behold two men in white apparel dressed
  Who thus bespake them on the mountain crest: 

    “Why stand ye, men of Galilee,
      So sadly gazing on the skies? 
    For this same Jesus, whom ye see
      Caught in the clouds to Paradise,
  Shall in like manner from the starry height
  Return again to greet your joyful sight.”

    Would, O Lord Jesus! thus to hear
      Thy farewell words we too had met,
    Among Thine own Disciples dear,
      Upon the brow of Olivet! 
  Yet are we blest, though of that joy bereaved,
  Who having seen Thee not, have yet believed.