By JH Sayyar
Now comes the season dressed in emerald hue,
With blossoms waking from their wintry sleep;
The sky is bright, the clouds are soft and few,
And lambs upon the fields begin to leap.
The streams run clear with laughter on their way,
While daffodils arise from earthen bed;
The morning sings in gold the birth of day,
As robins build their nests o’er flowered spread
O Spring, sweet herald of the light and bloom,
Thy touch revives the soul with tender art—
Thou drive away cold winter’s ghostly gloom
And plants seeds of joy within the poor heart
Though seasons pass and time shall ever flee,
Each spring does return to set the spirit free.
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