Fairies
The crocuses push back the snowAnd thrust to sky their pointed heads.
While daffodils embrace the sun
From fertile loamy meadow beds.
Then robed in greens and morning dews
Spring fairies open every flower.
To paint in bold and vivid hues,
The landscapes of spring's brilliant bower.
The fairies, robed in summer light,
Paint fields of stretching verdant wheat,
Broad fields of corn and waving rye,
And then to make the scene complete
The billowing of leafy trees,
Of aspen, oak and mountain yew,
The fleecy clouds in bluest sky,
And flaming sunsets 'ere they're through.
In autumn robes of rust and brown
The fairies rim the leaves in frost.
Each masterpiece of blazing tones
With red and yellow gold embossed.
The summer swarms are laid to rest.
The rodents burrow underground.
The chorus of the summer's eve
Is through; wind makes the only sound.
Then softly falling from above
The snow bedecks the land in white.
While winter fairies robed in ice
Paint filigrees of frost by night,
Hang icicles just for the show,
And turn the placid ponds to glass.
Thus nature will abate it's breath
Full knowing that this too will pass.
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