Grandma told me all about it, Told me so I couldn't doubt it, How she danced, my grandma danced; long ago.

Now the noisy winds are still; April's coming up the hill! All the spring is in her train, Led by shining ranks of rain; Pit, pat, patter, clatter, Sudden sun and clatter patter!... All things ready with a will, April's coming up the hill!

Luxuries unfit us for returning to hardships easily endured before.

She waits for me, my lady Earth, Smiles and waits and sighs; I'll say her nay, and hide away, Then take her by surprise.

Life is a mystery as deep as ever death can be.

Grandma told me all about it, Told me so I couldn't doubt it, How she danced, my grandma danced; long ago.

[On The Netherlands:] ... the entire country is a kind of saturated sponge.