The bulbs are up
And, as they place pale purple flowers
Around the foot
Of Hackney's St. Augustine's tower,
They give me hope
That softer spring shall soon come round
So I can cope
With dashing rain that dares to drown
The town today
And makes my snow-chilled spirit fall.
�Away, glum grey, �
The crocuses so clearly call
To gladden gloom
And shine through sullen scowling clouds
And soon will bloom
Glad daffodils who trumpet loud
That warmer days
Will soon be here at last to stay
Where we can laze
In blazing sun, or play all day.