As I walk through the fields so free,
My thoughts run deep inside of me.
I stop and ponder on the ground I tread,
And saw the willow trees straight ahead.
Fascinating of trees, the willows now
Hung with silky aments along their bough,
Bearing scaly bracts with utmost pride,
Wearing white for the Palm Sunday tide.
Since I looked for trees in bloom,
Knowing that Easter will be upon us soon,
About the awakening woodland I stroll
To see the willow trees as white as snow.