Song as Old as Spring

Sing-a-song-o-springtime, the people begged the bard—
Said he; “To find new rhyme is hard.
Sweet spring has sprung too oft from ground,
Who’d wish to sing another round?
For spring’s been sung into the ground.”

Sing-a-song-o-springtime, the people begged him yet,
Of flowered boughs and bursting buds and grasses green and wet.
“Sing what?” cried he. “Of bird’s return? Of growing nest and egg?”
Of that, and more, the people said, a song of spring we beg.

“But what is new to say of new?” Cried troubled troubadour.
“This vernal tide, this flowering prime, has thus been called; and more.
I’ve naught to say of spring but this—
That sunshine wakes the earth with kiss,
And ground grows green in vibrant bliss
Then all goes damp with rain and mist
Until the rain and sun make tryst
And rainbows arc between the twain
Till grey clouds fade, and with them, rain
And sun again holds full domain.”

A song-o-springtime, sing us more!
“What’s this?” Quoth he, “What awful chore!
To make anew a thing so old,
I cannot sing of spring so bold,
I cannot freshen green and gold,
And blue of sky with words oft-told.”

“The budding new has too-long stood
The budding songs that once were good
Have long been sung into the ground.
Who’d wish to sing another round?
Sweet spring has sprung too oft from ground.”

A-song-o-springtime, still they said, and so he sadly did.
He sweetly sang of songbird’s love, of newling lamb and kid.
The smell of earth and wet and green he wove into a song,
With words well known and sung before, and still he sang along,
Of waterfalls of melted snow, and skies washed blue and clean,
And though the tribute, true, was old, it sounded new as spring.



  1. I like best of all the verse he sang from “sunshine wakes the earth with kiss” onward. It did indeed sound fresh as ever-new spring!
    And the picture above is a lovely wonder! Where camest thou by it?

    1. Yes, both the word-painting and the picture were rather Gant, weren’t they? 🙂
      As for where I found the latter– googled “Spring Music” and it was one of the first there. I would have linked to their page, but I didn’t get the impression that they originated the image, anyway…

    1. Indeed, I wish I had a tune to suit… but alas, mine is not the gift of a bard, but of a simple wordsmith who loves to whittle out rhymes and speak of those wandering lords of music… 🙂

  2. I wonder what troubled the troubadour so… Was it just a moment of job insecurity? Tired of the same old same old? But then, once singing, he found his voice again, as it were? Thank you for sharing!

    1. Indeed,you have hit the nail on the head. Methinks he must have been rather new to this business of minstrelsy, or he’d have long since known that there is no new thing under the sun… except for everything that is!
      …Fellow might have flown his master’s nest a bit too soon, if you know what I mean. 😉 Ah well, he’s got the makings of a fine troubador, ‘neath all his frets. (Lol, get it? Frets?)

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