UP in the tree tops the young buds are blushing; 

They doff their green caps in the presence of Spring, 

Bending like children with smiles on their faces, 

To hear the sweet message her errant winds bring. 

Robin sings bravely, and where the pool sparkles, 

Shimmers and shines through its fringes of fern, 

The chatterbox blackbirds are noisily splashing; 

Like stars in the marshes the buttercups burn. 

The leaves on the boughs softly whisper together, 

The brown fields in furrows expectantly lie; 

They wait till the tiny germs, under them stirring, 

Shall break from their prison and laugh at the sky. 

Now in the sunshine, and now in the shadow, 

On airy wings glancing, the glad swallows soar; 

The gold burdened bee, tired of winter's long dreaming, 

Tells all the flowers that the winter is o'er. 

Mary H. Krout