Old Man Winter
The snow is melting on the hills,
The Ice is full of doubt;
The winds are blowing softer now
And less inclined to pout.
A pride of daffodils arise
To strut their frocks of green;
The birds are flying from the south
And singing for the queen.
The cows are lowing in the stalls,
The horses kick the air;
Old man winter's weak and wane,
And rocking in his chair.
The Ice is full of doubt;
The winds are blowing softer now
And less inclined to pout.
A pride of daffodils arise
To strut their frocks of green;
The birds are flying from the south
And singing for the queen.
The cows are lowing in the stalls,
The horses kick the air;
Old man winter's weak and wane,
And rocking in his chair.
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.