Spring’s an exquisite time: yet you don’t trust
March with its long dusk,
Nor April with its budding sweet showers,
Nor even May, when earth’s dullness
One bud may soon brighten with the sunlit hours.
I pray some splendid summer day,
When sprightly birds begin to rest
And golden fruits are at their best
If there’s just enough sun and enough shade
And the cool breeze is neither too soft nor great
I Pray! Your secret you will tell
For I won’t press.