THE alder by the river Shakes out her powdery curls; The willow buds in silver For little boys and girls. The little birds fly over, And oh, how sweet they sing! To tell the happy children That once again 'tis spring. The gay green grass comes creeping So soft beneath their feet; The frogs begin to ripple A music clear and sweet. And buttercups are coming, And scarlet columbine; And in the sunny meadows The dandelions shine. And just as many daisies As their soft hands can hold The little ones may gather, All fair in white and gold. Here blows the warm red clover, There peeps the violet blue; O happy little children, God made them all for you! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOW TO KNOW LOVE FROM DECEIT by WILLIAM BLAKE AN ARCTIC VISION [JUNE 20, 1867] by FRANCIS BRET HARTE PALINODE; AUTUMN by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 70. THE HILL-SUMMIT by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE PERSIANS (PERSAE): THE BATTLE OF SALAMIS by AESCHYLUS ADVENTURE ON THE WINGS OF MORNING by RACHEL ALBRIGHT THE SINGERS OF DELLA ROBBIA by ALFRED BARRETT |