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I see the fresh blossoms on the trees,
And know that spring is here at last.
This does my old heart please,
As it has done in the years gone past.
Soon fruit ripened in a warming sun,
Will be ours to pick and eat.
Nature has her work well done,
Where no human can compete.
Blowing rippling through the trees,
There plays a gentle summer breeze.
Telling us that all is well,
For spring has cast her magic spell.
Blossoms do the poet inspire,
His pen will write the rest.
Our hopes rise higher and higher,
As we are with blossoms blest.
Bernard Shaw
Read poems about / on: magic, spring, summer, nature, work, sun, heart, tree, hope, rose
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