As Winter screeks her claws across the pane
And leaches all the colours from the grass,
She draws in black and white her pictures plain,
Then carves her ferny leaves upon the glass.

Next, Spring in all her joy, pours on the world
Fresh daffodils to drive back winter's creep,
Then, watching as the leaves are thus unfurled,
She sprinkles hills with white of new born sheep.

Now Summer floods her palette o'er the seed
To give the people hope of harvest store.
She cracks the dawn with early songbird's lied
'Til light departs and knocks on Autumn's door.

Then Autumn draws her brush across the scene
And paints the trees with crimson, brown and gold.
She covers up the joy of summer's green,
And warns us that the year is growing old.

And thus the yearly cycle goes its round,
In orbit set by Nature's mighty hand.
The seasons paint their beauty on the ground,
And scatter heaven's bounty o'er the land.