By Guinevere Avalon
The snow had finally melt,
the winter had ended,
I don't think it can even be comprehended,
how I'm happy that many flowers can now be smelt.
Snowdrops are peeking out of the ground,
a swallow is returing to its nest,
aren't you glad about the sound,
of light rain showers in the West.
Rays of sunshine are brightening my face,
Tadpoles are being born every day,
spring is quickening its pace,
are those horses I hear neigh?
Children are playing in the grass,
boys are glad to be out of the class.
Girls are making bouquets from daffodils and bluebells,
it's so beautiful as if a witch cast many spells.
Too bad spring doesn't last longer,
or that flowers' smell isn't any stronger.
But life cycle must turn around,
it won't be long until again we hear spring's sound.
the winter had ended,
I don't think it can even be comprehended,
how I'm happy that many flowers can now be smelt.
Snowdrops are peeking out of the ground,
a swallow is returing to its nest,
aren't you glad about the sound,
of light rain showers in the West.
Rays of sunshine are brightening my face,
Tadpoles are being born every day,
spring is quickening its pace,
are those horses I hear neigh?
Children are playing in the grass,
boys are glad to be out of the class.
Girls are making bouquets from daffodils and bluebells,
it's so beautiful as if a witch cast many spells.
Too bad spring doesn't last longer,
or that flowers' smell isn't any stronger.
But life cycle must turn around,
it won't be long until again we hear spring's sound.