Thomas Hardy - A drizzling Easter morning lyrics

And he is risen? Well, be it so . . . And still the pensive lands complain, And dead men wait as long ago, As if, much doubting, they would know What they are ransomed from, before They pa** again their sheltering door. I stand amid them in the rain, While blusters vex the yew and vane; And on the road the weary wain Plods forward, laden heavily; And toilers with their aches are fain For endless rest - though risen is he.