The wintry winds have ceased to blow,
And the trembling leaves appear;
The fairest flowers succeed the snow,
And hail to infant year.
So, when the world and all its woes
Are vanished far away,
Fair scenes and wonderful repose
Shall bless the new-born day, -
When, from the confines of the grave,
The body too shall rise;
No more precarious passion's slave,
Nor errors sacrifice.
'Tis but a sleep - and Sion's king
Will call the many dead:
'Tis but a sleep - and then we sing,
O'er dreams of sorrow fled.
Yes! - wintry winds have ceased to blow,
And trembling leaves appear,
And nature has her types to show
Throughout the varying year.
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