A youthful lad is Spring,
He is happy, content, and gay,
He makes the birdies sing,
He wakes the flowers under the clay.
He buds the trees and hedges,
He makes the fields put on new dresses,
The reeds and the sedges
Are like grass in the cresses.
At night when all’s asleep
O’er hill and dale he quickly comes
Alone with nimble feet.
Through the wood like a hare he runs.
Sweet smiles are on his lips;
His earnest eyes like diamonds look;
His white-clad finger-tips
Paint the grass for the roadman’s hook.
E. Stirling Age 12