As down the little lanes I walk,
Inhabitants start to faintly talk.
Waking, stretching to bud and flower,
Arrived: the warmth, that day and hour.

When nature from its winter hide,
Responds to light so long denied.
These murmurings of nascent shoots,
Foretell the calls to share their fruits.

When all looked lost and gone forever,
Beyond the will of new endeavour.
A change is led by longer days,
Decreasing frost and dewy haze.

Daffodils school a pale low sun,
Wave flags to tell it spring's begun.
Assembling summer at gentle pace,
As winter yields with gust yet grace.

Blackthorn parades its welcome white,
A beacon of fresh reflected light.
Eager to flower before its leaves,
This spectre day from night reprieves.

From here the earth responds in kind,
With dormant frigid days behind.
To supply new life with all it needs,
From oldest trees to new sown seeds.

And with the world again in bloom,
Spring spun once more on nature's loom.
It's summer's turn, so its author rests,
Part played among year's fourfold guests.