The March of Spring
The glazed sun is growing warmer,
As it sweeps across the still land.
March is budding tenderly greenly,
On the hills and in grassy valleys.
And in its final blossoming days,
A world awakes as from deep sleep!
Emerald creeps on the mountainside,
As purple butterflies are wafting in.
Bees hum busily in a riot of blooms,
And puffy clouds go by on breezes,
As waves of color wash dullness away,
In the green phase of birdsong and
Laughter.
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