Crocuses bloom when spring has sprung
And there’s no room for feeling glum;
But when church bells their rings have rung
The year moves to Chrysanthemum.
And as the winter chill draws near,
When mists and rain beset the hills,
And ring the end of the flowered year,
It's only weeks to daffodils.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment