The Gentle Touch of Spring

The faded days of winter dry
Have softly passed away;
The cuckoo sings in garden bright
Its merry song today.
Fresh little leaves of tender green
Now clothe each waving tree;
And flowers bloom in many hues
So fair for all to see.
Red Shimul and the Palash bloom,
Krishnachura flames high;
Jasmine sweet and marigold
Spread fragrance far and nigh.
The bees grow drunk on scent and bloom,
The butterflies take wing;
We gladly feel upon our hearts
The gentle touch of spring.