Pretty, so pretty, these flowers,
to wile away in pleasured hours,
among the roses and tulip beds,
brilliant posies, blues and reds;
and ‘ere among this floral array,
I fritter my time ’til end of day,
gaily smiling for my own joy,
spring is now in my employ.
Softly, but softly, begets breeze,
silken breath wafts ‘ere it please,
and softly upon my wetted lips,
‘ere songs are sung in random slips;
while the breeze has hold of me,
my heart is light, and burden free,
for in the spring, all life renewed,
as is my life, now freshly hewed.