Would you not be in Tryon Now that the spring is here, When mocking-birds are praising The fresh, the blossomy year? Look — on the leafy carpet Woven of winter`s browns Iris and pink azaleas Flutter their gaudy gowns. The dogwood spreads white meshes — So white and light and high — To catch the drifting sunlight Out of the cobalt sky. The pointed beech and maple, The pines, dark-tufted, tall, Pattern with many colors The mountain`s purple wall. Hark — what a rushing torrent Of crystal song falls sheer! Would you not be in Tryon Now that the spring is here?SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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