Written in March

The cock is crowing,  The stream is flowing,  The small birds twitter,  The lake doth glitter The green field sleeps in the sun;  The oldest and youngest  Are at work with the strongest;  The cattle are grazing,  Their heads never raising;

There are forty feeding like one!  Like an army defeated  The snow hath retreated,  And now doth fare ill  On the top of the bare hill;

The plowboy is whooping- anon-anon:  There's joy in the mountains;  There's life in the fountains;  Small clouds are sailing,  Blue sky prevailing;

The rain is over and gone!