By spring in rise from slumber long,
She smiles with light and morning song.
In fertile bloom as colours burst,
Her gentle arms, embrace while nurse.
A lady as by summer’s grace,
Adorned in ribbons and gilded lace.
Braids of green while flaxen hair,
With softest touch and temper fair.
As mother come by harvest moon,
In blush of shades, as flush with swoon.
By hand and gather, plough and till,
Thrash while bail, grind and mill.
In walk, the mistress, these acres wide,
Cast endless to horizons glide.
With frosted kiss and drifting skies,
A simple grace where beauty lies.