Dark and drear the blocked cave is calm,
A blackened grave, a poor man�s tomb,
But as dawn nears breaking o�er the hill,
A streak of light shatters the gloom,
And with a crack, a groan, a shout,
The barring bolder rolls away,
Then the occupant, three days dead,
Emerges to the dawn of day.
Then through the ever lighter sky,
A single point of white, a dove,
Comes to alight upon that stone,
The chosen bird, the sign of love.
Then with the proud white dove there comes,
The lesser birds, pigeons and larks,
Come to sing ov�r empty grave,
While above divine rainbow arks.