What joyous, spring wind
Carried this love to me
And brought to mind
Hopeful blossoms of what may be?
Passion's seed now sown in heart-soil,
Gains its kernel through love's sweet toil.
Though assailed by frost and pest,
True love stands the seasons' test.
O rain; fall on this dry ground,
And encourage this tender shoot.
Precious Light, shine all around,
And grow your perfect fruit.
Great Vinedresser, we need your cleaning,
Wisely trim and prune this haggard vine.
So it may with charity's fruit be teeming,
And that we may enjoy your holy wine.