Old Winter, he's such a cold gloomy cuss
Know that I know that his bluster's bogus.
I do not fear him - his cold winds caress;
Refuse his dismay - he's only Spring's cusp!

A Spring of rebirth when life blooms once more,
That fills men with love right down to their core.
Comes she with sunshine and flowers galore,
Lightening hearts - a proud show to adore.

Then Summer, her mate, in with a storm blows.
All his great heat drying river and rose.
Autumn, comes then to squash summer's toes,
Giving great harvests and filling silos.

With leaves of bright colors in falling season,
Winter sees then, the chance for his reason.
He laughs in my face and presses his gloom.
But I fret for naught knowing Spring will soon bloom.