Written in the Spring of 1932. The fire of Sept. 11, 1931, had destroyed the forest.
Oh: I am glad that spring is near,
Familiar signs around, so dear—
I hear the cawing of the crow,
I see the melting of the snow;
A change is wafted on the breeze
Among the dry and naked trees,
For gentle spring can find no rest
As winter dies upon her breast.
There’s something in the balmy air,
An inspiration everywhere;
‘Tis but our welfare spring imparts
To fill with joy all human hearts.
When things are garbed in winter dress
The only need is her caress,
Then intimate seem earth and sky- –
Oh! I am glad that spring is nigh.