Rest by the pasture gateIn new dappled shade,Green on your flanks from rolling,Green on your muzzle from feastingThe whole world is turning Green; you appear to be following suit.

Stems like handles,Blooms like feathery brushesDipped in orangey-red,Paintbrushes fill the pastureWith bright patches of colorLike liquid scarves of brightOriental silk.

Sing for spring Dance for joyGod has blessed againFed our hungry soulsWith pristine beautyIf flowers dance And birds singShouldn't I praise too?