Spring, the washing leaves in the suns reprieve,
The blazing light, obscured and blight, shines through the lazy trees.
Seldom done, the cold is gone, and warmth bursts in with ease.
To love the spring, whence flowers grow. The girls they come, the girls they go.
But best of all, the gardens tall, and skies of bluest seen.
The season of life and birth,
The days that beauty dreams.