Your breeze it tempts, your sun beguiles,
The vines you twine stretch miles and miles,
And every bloom just adds to your esteem.
The rivers swell, the mosses creep,
Awakening what once did sleep,
The frost that clung transformed to rushing stream.

Spring, oh Spring, oh Spring, oh Spring,
Your blossoms blind, your scents serene,
Spring, oh Spring, oh Spring, oh Spring,
Your growth could make me feel obscene.

You cast your spell, the bees delight,
You coax the stars to thaw the night,
And whisper promises in dew-laced gleam.
But I am here, steadfast and firm,
Though waxy wings make branches squirm,
Your teasing warmth is not quite what it seems.

Penned by my hand on Gosday, the 21st of Dharos, in the year 8 AC.