The Seasons

By Lucy P. Scott

How green and bright the dear grass is!
I’m glad the summer’s come;
It’s lovely to run in the field
Where fat bees buzz and hum.
It’s nice to sit out on the porch
When it’s warm to run about,
For winter’s always in, you see.
But summer’s always out.

Of course the fire is pleasant too,
To warm your frozen toes;
It*s pleasant when the twilight comes
To talk while someone sews;
I love my books, I love to read
The things they’re all about,
But winter’s always in, you see.
And summer’s always out.

Thanksgiving comes when it is cold,
And there is Christmas too.
And both days we have lots of fun
With many things to do;
We always go to Grandad’s
And kick up such a din!
But summer’s always out you see,
And winter it is in.

So, after all, sweet summer’s best.
How blue the sky can be!
The buttercups and garden flowers
Just blossom all for me.
It’s fine to run against the breeze.
To dance and jump about,
For winter’s it is always in.
But summer’s it is out.

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