At winter's death,only the rain to come say goodbye,
frozen tears of gone cold, hide and melt under the gaze of the sun.

The green back on the leaves and tress,
a slow salute to the winter's deeds.
When you care, how the days went,
all along with you, half wailing, half smiling;
you hold hands, with coming shine,
telling you its silly secrets as you swing,
in the folds of its warmth, you forget all of you.