Daylight Savings Time - Poem by Phyllis McGinley
In spring when maple buds are red,
We turn the clock an hour ahead;
Which means, each April that arrives,
We lose an hour out of our lives.
Who cares? When autumn birds in flocks
Fly southward, back we turn the clocks,
And so regain a lovely thing
That missing hour we lost in spring.
Comments about Daylight Savings Time by Phyllis McGinley
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.