She didn\'t want to die when the Skies were Blue;
And the Spring so promised of Wonders true.
When Tulips arise from their Winter Beds;
And Snowdrops bloom by Roses Red.
The Southern breeze, it\'s hint of days
Of lazy walks by Woodland ways,
By Songbirds singing with Hearts aglow;
The joy of days their Songs bestow.
She didn\'t want to leave the Spreading Trees,
The Murmur and dance of flitting bees.
And Cartwheeling Children that tumble down,
To ring the dales with Cheerful sounds
Near burning Hills from Melting Sun,
Then Homeward bound their frolics done.
She didn\'t want to die when the Clouds were Gold,
Her time grew short, A Childhood told
Of heady fragrant scented air;
When Hera breathed her presence there.
The Patchwork land of Wandering Plains,
And Sheltered Groves from Summer Rains.
For She didn\'t want to die when the Skies were Blue-
But She Wilted and Waned the Winter through.