Classic Poem

Pretty little crocus, in your cosy bed,
Mr. Sun is calling you, won't you show your head?
Mother Earth has sheltered you all the winter through,
Now warm winds are blowing and the skies are blue.

Little baby crocus, in his earthy bed,
With the warm sun drawing him, popped out his tiny head;
Just as he was stirring underneath the ground,
Other little crocuses were looking all around.

Further down the garden, by a running brook,
Two little snowdrops thought they'd have a look;
Saw the sun was shining and the world was gay,
For into the garden Spring had come that day!