The winds of March are keen and cold;
I fear them not, for I am bold.
I wait not for my leaves to grow;
They follow after: they are slow.
My yellow blooms are brave and bright;
I greet the Spring with all my might.
The winds of March are keen and cold;
I fear them not, for I am bold.
I wait not for my leaves to grow;
They follow after: they are slow.
My yellow blooms are brave and bright;
I greet the Spring with all my might.