Life smells sweet in the groves of joyful Spring
The warm air drifts over birth and rebirth
A sleepy, slow moving display of mirth
Yet a dark conceit doth this season bring

Its cruel naïveté veils dearly well
The on-rushing finality of death
The cold, harsh loneliness of Winter's breath
Which, once realized, break the contumely spell

Now the luster of the landscape is gone
For this wary traveler sees with his eyes
That the thin, green veneer no longer hides
The barren earth visible in the dawn

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Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.