MAY.
There's a bluebird sits on the apple-tree bough,
Singing merrily and gay.
Come, little blossoms, the Spring's here now,
And the sun shines warm all day.
Singing merrily and gay.
Come, little blossoms, the Spring's here now,
And the sun shines warm all day.
Fast asleep in the leaves and grass,
Don't you hear the quick rain?
And the winds that whisper as they pass,
"The dear Spring's here again."
Don't you hear the quick rain?
And the winds that whisper as they pass,
"The dear Spring's here again."
Push your soft leaves out of the ground,
Open your mist-blue eyes,
Hear the brook with its singing sound,
Look at the sunny skies.
Open your mist-blue eyes,
Hear the brook with its singing sound,
Look at the sunny skies.
All the drifts of the winter snow
Were frightened and fled away.
They left their place for the grass to grow,
And the merry moths to play.
Were frightened and fled away.
They left their place for the grass to grow,
And the merry moths to play.
