Noon has come drawing shadows to their core and daisies once held in awe of darkness show their heads proud to the sun speckled constellations each of a thousand stars yet they tell no fortunes speak no lies but are as stars a wonder under the midday skies
speak softly to me Springtime your words upon the sweetest wind that I may take those whispers and in them fair poetry find to seduce from sighing boughs a verse to bless the trees speak softly on the breeze Springtime reveal your songs to me.
speak gently to me April that in each drop of rain I hear the sounds of ballads with fresh ayrs in refrains that I may from the clouds become a minstrel of the sky to play each note of showered muse into the heaven’s high.
let not this April end I can wait on Nightingales whose songs the May doth send the music from which summer hails no, leave me here in April of silent Blackbirds in the rain so I may hark upon the stillness played in brief Spring’s young refrains
March hares in May are not so mad and play another tune throughout the spring they’ve danced a jig that’s done before the June flowers high toward the sun do raise their yellow crowns for ’tis the month the March hares’ calmly start to settle down.