Just when we think the sun has gone on permanent vacation,
It draws back nigh to warm the land with perfect orchestration;
Then plants and streams and dormant kind,
Stir, as if some heavenly chime
Tolls darkness now is history;
Resurrect in victory!
So then our hope with patience kept,
While life around us only slept,
‘Twas not indeed a final curtain,
But only that of which we’re certain.
John Prosper 