With March comes in the pleasant spring,
When little birds begin to sing;
To build their nests, to hatch their brood.
With tender care provide them food.
And summer comes with verdant June;
The flowers then are in full bloom,
All nature smiles, the fields look gay;
The weather’s fine to make the hay.
September comes; the golden corn
By many busy hands is shorn;
Autumn’s ripe fruits, an ample store,
Are gathered in for rich and poor.
Winter’s cold frost and northern blast —
This is the season that comes last
The snow has come, the sleigh-bells ring,
And merry boys rejoice and sing.