Come, listen to the robin. As he gaily swings to and fro On a bough of the old gray poplar, Singing merrily, now high, now low. See how the sweet little jonquils, Just lifting their heads from the ground, Having been asleep all the winter, Are now timidly gazing around, Saying: "we're fearful still, that old winter May not be all gone yet, And if we're not very careful A nipping we'll be sure to get." The birds and the flowers and the children With joy hail the coming of spring, For the trees their embryo verdure Soon forth to the light will bring
