Littera scripta manet

In bibliothecis loquuntur defunctorum immortales animae.

Spring


Here is my little garden,
Some seeds I'm going to sow.
Here is my rake to rake the ground,
Here is my handy hoe.

Here is the big, round yellow sun;
The sun warms everything.
Here are the rain clouds in the sky;
The birds will start to sing.

Little plants will wake up soon,
And lift their sleepy heads;
Little plants will grow and grow
In their little, warm earth beds.

ChristmasChristmas...

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