The Silver Birds
Oh timid whispers of the wind
You seem to wish the summer in
You call to her in warm caressing bursts
Blessing all with a touch of April sun
The weeping willow has begun
To cascade her flowing leafy locks
Into the flowing tender breeze
Where flocks of silent silver birds
Sweep above her outstretched natural green
Between Forget-Me-Nots and Saffron Meadow
Unfurls a sea of Primrose Red
Shadowed below as the sun arose
Swirling yellow overhead
Serene the toothsome cherry trees
Sprouted from the cherished soil
Uncoils each outstretched blossomed branch
That carries the fruit of nature’s toil
‘Oh blessed are the weeks that see the seasons change
Where tulips flood in silky bud from out of winter sleep
And Mother Nature keeps those flowers
Fresh upon the grange
Allured by the tender touch of April’s falling rain’.
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