Tis Sweetest In the Spring

"Tis Sweetest in the Spring" By Rachel Heffington The farmers wives are scouring their farmhouse kitchen floors The bold, brisk lads are happy-eyed and whistle out of doors. The dairy-maids churn butter Into little golden pats and squirt the streams of pearly milk to sleek soft-footed cats. The red-cheeked children play beneath the pear trees caught in bloom And to and from the hidden hives the striped bees zip and zoom. The farmer with the sober horse plows furrows in the field, counting, with a cautious eye, how well the earth will yield. The breezes whisper to the rose that clambers on the well And drops into it's blushing ear dreams lovers yearn to tell. The sunbeams dance within the brook and dimple in the shade The grass is greening on the lea and in the forest glade. And with a joyous burst of song the robin red-breasts sing, the tune in every beating heart: "Tis sweetest in the Spring!"