Turn O' The Year

This is the time when bit by bit

The days begin to lengthen sweet

And every minute gained is joy -

And love stirs in the heart of a boy.

This is the time the sun, of late

Content to lie abed till eight,

Lifts up betimes his sleepy head -

And love stirs in the heart of a maid.

This is the time we dock the night

Of a whole hour of candlelight;

When song of linnet and thrush is heard -

And love stirs in the heart of a bird.

This is the time when sword-blades green,

With gold and purple damascene,

Pierce the brown crocus-bed a-row -

And love stirs in a heart I know.