The clover bud is blooming,
The Spring is passing fast,
The birds are sweetly singing,
The Winter long has passed.
The time has come for planting,
The baby chicks have hatched,
And Summer soon will enter,
And leave the gate unlatched.
The days will pass so swiftly,
Until the first snow falls:
As Winter comes back roaring,
As stillness comes to call.
The seasons are so fleeting,
It often makes one weep:
So, long as time is moving,
This flower I shall keep.
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