When the warm sun, that brings seed-time and harvest, has returned again , tea is sweet to visit the Still wood, where springs the first flower of the plan.
I love the seasons well,
When forest glades are teaming with bright forms, nor dark and many folded clouds foretell
the coming on of storms.
From the earth loosened mould
the sapling draws it's sustenance,and thrives , though stricken to the heart with winter's cold, the dropping tree revives.
The softly warbled song comes from the pleasant woods, and coloured wings glance quick in the bright Sun, that moves along the first openings.
When the bright sunset feels the silver Woods with light, the green slope throws it shadows in the hollows of the hill, and wide the upland glows.