Springtime trees are newly born,

Their buds soon bursting through;

They wake at Nature's New Year morn

To bid the old adieu.

 

Summer trees are tall and green

And fill our hearts with love;

Responding to a force unseen

They praise the skies above.

 

Autumn trees are red and gold,

In majesty they stand,

And wear their colours bright and bold

To decorate the land.

 

Winter trees are stooped and spare,

Like old men bending low,

Shivering in the bitter air

Beneath their coats of snow.