Good Friday
So we forget? The streets bloom gay
With festive garments, many hued;
And man and maid laugh down the way
With all the joy of life imbued.
Respite from toil, surcease from care
Lend gladness to a merry voice,
As brother cries to brother there,
‘Let us rejoice.’
Do we forget? The garden blooms;
Joy beckons from the sunlit hill,
Where now no triple shadow looms
To cast o’er all the earth a chill.
This day is made for carefree souls!
For holiday! For Eastertide!...
Yet, thro’ it all a bell still tolls
For One Who died.
