Gold and green and blue and white,
Daisies, buttercups and sky,
Grass, and clouds, and birds unite
In a chorus of delight,
For the tender spring is nigh,
Soon will winds no longer sigh.

March and April pass away,
And the dainty-fingered rain
Plays sweet symphonies all day,
Welcoming the lovely May;
Soon will chickweed fill the lane,
And poppies sprout amid the grain.