The color green belongs to spring, Which splashes it about. On nearly every growing thing, That pops a bud or sprout. Against the white of winter time, Spring’s green is fresh and new. With lettuce, Laurel leaf, and lime, And peas and honeydew. Appearing in new gowns of green, The reawakened trees. Are graceful as they bow and lean, A-dancing in spring’s breeze. Each season with it’s own bouquet brings color new and clean, But surely, spring, this lovely way, Has blessed the world with green.
With pomp, power & glory the world beckons vainly, in chase of such vanities why should I roam? While peace & content bless my little thatched cottage, and warm my own hearth with the treasures of home.
October has no butterflies and so we told Jack Frost, to make a million right away no matter what the cost. And so he painted all the leaves a lovely red and brown, then he shook the branches hard and made them flutter down.