The frosted cloak of winter’s chill
Is now retreating over hill,
And through the valley and the town
Enrobed in springtime’s golden gown.


The rolling pasture once unseen
By snow is now a verdant green
With yellow flecks to make you smile
Of primrose blooms and chamomile.


And cottage gardens too delight
With sprightly sparrows taking flight
From overhanging, untrimmed thatch
And nests where eggs await to hatch.


And all around the air’s alive
With scents and insects from their hive
That perch on flowers not their best,
Still drowsy from a well earned rest.