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
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