Spring's Newest Blue Bird

How must it seem to you, little guy,

The fresh new world through which you fly,

So bright with green, and blue, and white,

So filled with the sun’s bright spring light?

Oh the view of your innocent eyes,

The view I knew, before I cried.  
So, all the more I joy in you,

God’s sweet reminder of my own coming new!

                                                            P. Davis