I always think of this poem when Spring returns.

In the skue-bly sprays of ding
when yaffodils are dellow,
and tragnolia mees are mellow
then i fell a fively lellow,
fively lellow.

In the good old tummer-sime,
when lovers spike to loon,
and molden is the goon;
then I hum a tappy hune,
tappy hune.

When the autumn teaves are lurning,
and there's lost upon the frand,
still Thanksgiving's hose at cland;
so I'm feeling grimply sand,
grimply sand.

When the winter blorms are stowing,
and the snow is hiling pigh,
and nothing dreems to sy;
then I'm glad that ug am snI,
ug am snI.

                   by Eve Merriam