| Dawn over the roof next door. | 
Now the green blade riseth from the buried grain,
wheat that in darkness many days has lain;
| Northeast dawn over the city. | 
Love is come again like wheat that springeth green.
John Crum, Oxford Book of Carols, 1928
| The ferns next door, coming up. Fiddleheads. | 
As we love to repeat all day, "He is risen! - He is risen indeed!"
 
2 comments:
Amen.
Beautiful!
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