Spring - A poem by Ellen P. Allerton

Spring.

Oh, Spring is coming, coming, treading softly on the snow,
And the drifts are slowly melting with the pressure and
the glow,
There's a waking and a thrilling in the heart with life
aglow
'That has throbbed through all the winter, underneath the
frozen snow.

Let others sing of summer, with its wavy, grassy seas,
Or of glorious, gorgeous autumn, with her crimson, flaming
trees,
Or of hoary bearded winter, with its days of glassy calm,
But I will sing the springtime with its tenderness and balm.

I stretch my arms to greet her, and my lips return her kiss,
I accept the joy she offers and I drink her cup of bliss.
Oh, my heart is throbbing, thrilling with a joy I cannot
tell,
As I wave my hand to winter in a jubilant farewell.

^__Ellen P. Allerton.