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.