Late January.
Snowdrops before, in the gardens were there;
Now they're flow'ring rife, in the woodland den.
In gardens, fair crocuses have joined them;
Though, I've yet to note the violet rare,
Whose shy, coy beauty is beyond compare.
Daylight is longer growing, until when -
We arrive near the end of June again;
Where, the spring with hot summer starts to share.
Birds are not concerned with their nesting yet,
Perhaps, it's a bit early, I suggest.
Rooks, are usually the first in this way;
They'll then be intent rooklings to beget,
Rooklings emerge from their eggs, 'tis confessed.
Till then, we rejoice in a longer day.
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