'Tis springtime, 'tis springtime, Cold winter is past; Warm breezes are blowing and May's here at last; The birds are returning, Their songs fill the air; And meadows are smiling with blossoms so fair. 'Tis Springtime, 'tis springtime, all nature's reborn; Shy flowers, fresh grasses the hillsides adorn; The orchards and woodlands with colors are gay, The glad earth rejoices through all the bright day.
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This page is maintained by Harold Wood, California.
E-mail: harold (at) planetpatriot.net
Last update: December 7, 1997