If there comes a little thaw,
Still the air is chill and raw,
Here and there a patch of snow,
Dirtier than the ground below,
Dribbles down a marshy flood;
Ankle-deep you stick in mud In the meadows while you sing,
"This is Spring."
Still the air is chill and raw,
Here and there a patch of snow,
Dirtier than the ground below,
Dribbles down a marshy flood;
Ankle-deep you stick in mud In the meadows while you sing,
"This is Spring."
Categories: 
Christopher Pearse Cranch
Christopher Pearse Cranch
Corporate Alien Website
