The earth comes to life at the touch of her wand
A miracle happens - a most wondrous thing
The seeds thrust their way to the threshold of light
at the coming of Spring
Her gossamer gown is of emerald green
A garland of freesias encircles her hair
The threads of her sash from the rainbow she weaves
So fragile, so fair
Her eyes are the violets, her tears are the dew
Her moods are capricious, now sullen and grey
Her anger is sudden and threatening and black
then passes away
She laughs as she darts here and there with her wand
shaking the blossoms and rustling the leaves
She skips with the lambs and romps with the wind
and blows through the eaves
No season's arrival is filled with such hope
as that which awaits this notorious flirt
For everyone loves her and everyone longs
for a glimpse of her skirt
