As March sets in people are eager to work in their rural gardens and fields,
The earth turns up fresh and mellow and there is beauty in its very blackness,
Flowers are fast springing in the boarders, delicate and beautifully poetic,
Familiar friends the alpine violet, the dog tooth violet, daffodils and squills.
The little snowdrop peaks out of the soil to see how many of his friends wait,
The snowdrop sees the Almond trees blossom beautiful while others are leafless,
Bends his little white head to the tacamahac, smiling he waves at the catkins,
He casts his eyes at the mezereon with clustered blooms, a China rose unfolds.
The trees in the woods feel the warmer weather and wild wood flowers sprout up,
The snowdrop nods to his friends the Coltsfoot and cardamine in older fallows,
And in this magical setting the star of Bethlehem beams across the grey trees,
A kingcup waves to the celandine showing off their fine deep and golden lustre.
Then who does the snowdrop see, can it be his friend the daisy growing on turf,
The crocus spreads like a purple flood that has beautified meadows for all time
But for today the violets, white or purple takes its lodgings under our hedges,
They move along the moist banks which is well remembered from a sweet childhood.