this year’s breezes gently toss

a fern uncurling from the moss;

arbutus trailing lengths along;

brown thrush thrilling with his song.

the grosbeak sings a song of cheer,

“ain’t” things beautiful this year?

the dandelions are here again

amongst the grass like golden rain.

a hawthorn raining petals white,

whilst dripping with the dews of night.

a mocker’s notes, round, sweet and clear.

“ain’t” things beautiful this year?

so thankful that old winter’s gone

fond hearts beat a tender song.

the meadow lark in circles high,

sings songs of faith against the sky.

while in my heart i greatly fear,

things are too beautiful this year.