And mine own Angel. Yet I see,
Heading God's army gloriously,
Michael Archangel, like a sun,
Splendid beyond comparison!

Setting my bulbs a-row
  In cold earth under the grasses,
Till the frost and the snow
  Are gone and the Winter passes—

Sudden a footfall light,
  Sudden a bird-call ringing;
And these in gold and in white
  Shall rise with a sound of winging.

Airy and delicate all,
  All go trooping and dancing
At Spring's call and footfall,
  Airily dancing, advancing.

In the dark of the year,
  Turning the earth so chilly,
I look to the day of cheer,
  Primrose and daffodilly.

Turning the sods and the clay
  I think on the poor sad people
Hiding their dead away
  In the churchyard, under the steeple.