The arms of spring now yellow

weather of winter now faint

Soon the air shall flow soft

As the birds they do stay aloft.

 

rivers of flowers they gleam

Glisten White, pink, red all but black

the raven appears not

Now that the spring has claimed his lot

 

The sky could never be more content 

clouds float off throughout the morn'

Leaving behind the grass what is due

When winter flares it weakening hue