If Spring should turn her covers back
And get up some fine morning
To find the daffodils in bloom
And honey bees abuzzing
And birds inspecting every tree
To find the right location
To build their homes, and raise their young
(And then go on vactation!)
I'd know that I had weathered through
A winterime of dying
And Spring was wakening to find
A new delight in living
And so the seasons come and go.
All have their woes and laughter.
Ere long or short, ere great or small
Each one must serve the Master.