Never before, at the beauty of spring; Have I noticed the scent, of so many things Of maple and cherry, and roses of red; And the lingering stench, of the wandering dead No further than nature, I wander to breathe; The fluttering scent, of flowers and weeds The quickening scent, of upgrading pines; Refreshingly green, from the changing in times
'Camouflaged by grief and dissembled in sorrow; the advent of spring, in the rise of tomorrow Shall weather it's beauty and relish it's pain; wandering forth in golden rain'
I heed to the singing, of birds in the sky; Roused by the sprouting, of life that revives I cherish this season, not lasting for long; Where the sounding of conflict, is blended song I heed to the crackle, of opening sprouts; At the beauty of springtime, where flowers arise I rest among grass, that is emerald green; Tranquil with a healthy, abundance of spleen
'Camouflaged by grief and dissembled in sorrow; the advent of spring, in the rise of tomorrow Shall weather it's beauty and relish it's pain; wandering forth in golden rain'
Erect and majestic, of blistering crowns; The oak trees are growing, at the rising of time On freshly cut grass, on an emerald lawn; I heed to the sounding, and the making of spawn Never before, at the beauty of spring; Have I noticed the scent, of so many things Of lilies and daisies, and red pimpernel; And the fluttering scent, of the fires from Hell