Comments about George Howard
The sun, once more awakening dawn choristers.
Songbirds, sweet music, to make the genius composer weep.
Strolling once more down lanes, sentries of Hawthorn and Privet.
Now in uniforms new, garbs in shades of emerald.
Lawns and pavements once more covered white,
Carpeted with petal confetti, leaving cherries naked, behind,
Blades of lush new green, pushing forth with jubilance,
To greet the newly awakening world, of birth and growth.
Humming workers, dressed in black and yellow sweat