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!