Poem February 3, 1945 Issue

Resurgence

BERTHA C. M. SANFORD

Sing, sing, my heart,
For joy of Love unfolded.
North wings the bird,
In flight no storm can slow.
Hard 'neath the frost
The bulb so neatly molded,
Answers the spring's behest
Its destiny to show.

Soft though the airs
That whisper, "Why not tarry?"
Stronger the voice
That bids me mount and soar.
Heavy though my heart
With weight too great to carry,
Love speaks the freeing word, and lo—
Man's glory shines once more!