Spring

There's magic out of doors,
I sure can tell.
When ice begins to go,
And rootlets swell.

When thoughts of hope,
Are all about.
And pink tinged buds,
Come reaching out.

When robins play,
On greening lawn.
And filtering rays,
Streak through the dawn.

When golden willows,
Like unto a gem.
Sips refreshment,
Through a stem.

Then, will we know,
The "Giver of all Things".
Has stretched his hand to turn,
The Key of Spring.

E.P. 1908 - 1989