The winter days drag on and on,
Hating to loosen their hold,
The raging storms...the foot-high drifts,
The bitter freezing cold.
Day after day I'd peer outside
Looking for a sign of Spring,
Yet even though I looked quite hard,
I couldn't find a thing.
The trees were bare...the grass was brown,
The cold wind made eyes tear,
Patches of snow lingered here and there,
Refusing to disappear.
And then one morning a splash of colour,
Caught my searching eye,
A tiny crocus was showing its face
To the overhead leaden sky.
And if I doubted that first sign of Spring,
That doubt was soon put to rest,
For there, gaily hopping across my lawn,
Was a beautiful Robin Redbreast!
