Call to the bird on the bough: ‘What cheer?’
And he pipes for answer: ‘The spring is here.’
A month goes by with its sun and rain,
And a rosebud taps at my window pane;
I see in the garden down below
The tall white lilies a stately row;
The birds are pecking the cherries red:
‘Summer is sweet,’ the starlings said.
Again I look from my casement down;
The leaves are changing to red and brown;