The bluebells come around in spring.
Another spring is now in bloom,
old winter snows have passed;
the bluebells all rise up in song,
the buds of life are cast.
The blue of sky meets forest green,
red robins have returned;
that white old man has gone to bed,
springtime again is earned.
And daylight stretches out his hand,
he slows the night awhile;
it's longer now from dusk to dawn,
that's spring's extended smile.
We open up our homes to let
the scent of love inside;
forsythia and buttercup
and sun all beam with pride.
For now the bluebell spring has come
to guide the applecart;
rich beauty to horizon's edge,
a joy to mind and heart.