There's something in the trees today,
you can feel it in the air.
Have you walked beside a brook, my friend,
When spring is drawing near?

They speak so very silently, you know,
Although, whispering's a better word.
And they whisper of how sad you look,
Longing summer like an itty bitty bird.

Oh, how they wish they'd give it to you,
And the brook she weeps in kind,
But none controls the bloom of spring,
And even less your mind.

"If you wait, you'll see, it's coming back",
(A squirrel to my pain)
And though I wished I could believe,
She spoke to me in vain.