Urge of Spring

O' I speak soft of blossoms' dew
Yet never felt the cold of night.
And o'er morning's warming rays
I shall permit to feel delight.

Like ice my doubts o' cling to me
And feed my griefs, my disbeliefs.
I liked the thought of being wrong
And hopes just float like atumns' leaves.

And when the spring apace appears
So winter's frost hence can't emerge,
I shall sing and strum each string
And dance until there's no more urge.