February

To-day, I saw the catkins blow,
Altho' the hills are white with snow

White throstles sang " The sun is good " ;
They waved their banners in the wood.

They come to greet the lurking Spring
As messengers from Winter's King.

And thus they wave while Winter reigns,
While his cold grip still holds the plains.

Oh, tho' the hills are white with snow,
To-day I saw the catkins blow.
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