Spring!

It is the thing

     To write on spring,

By poets far and near;

     The readers all

     Both great and small

Expect it once a year.

     It matters not

     If we have got

A message real to sing;

     A verse, I mean,

     On grasses green

Is quite the proper thing.

     Down in the bogs

     The drowsy frogs

Are piping up a lay;

     And setting hens

     Out in the pens

Are fussing every day.

     The early birds

     Appear in herds

And trees are budding out;

     While in the heights

     We witness kites,

While youngsters laugh and shout.

     It is the thing

     To write on spring,

Although you know it’s here;

     But ‘tis our lot,

     Deny us not,

To spread the joy each year.

     So thus we sing

     Of gentle spring,

‘Tis all that we can do;

     In any case

     It fills up space

And brings a bone or two!

        

March 24, 1913