I always know when Spring is here at last: I've got a sign I can depend upon When birds are late, or other signs are past, Or overdue. I know when Winter's gone Not by no robins that may fly around, Nor flow'rs, nor any other fancy thing; But when the worms come crawlin' from the ground I know it's Spring. Now, there's a prophet when he prophesies You can depend upon, as I have said. The robins fool you, and the very skies Are bright and blue, with blizzards just ahead. Trees bud too soon and hit another snow; The grass will start too early many a year; But when the angleworms begin to show Then Spring is here. A white grub in the garden tells the tale A whole lot better than the poets can; He ain't no singer like a nightingale But, I insist, a better friend to man. Old Mother Earth has told him Winter's through, That Spring is here, in no uncertain terms. Sing songs of birds and buds like poets do -- But bet on worms. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHAMBER THICKET by SHARON OLDS CONTRA MORTEM: THE BEING AS VISION by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE MAN TO BE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE WANDERER: A ROCOCO STUDY (FIRST VERSION) by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS |