The weatherman said the signs of spring
Were flowers and buds and bees;
But wire lines tangled in kites and string
Are a better sign than these.

The surest sign of an early spring,
And the best, beyond a doubt,
Are the toy planes upon the wing,
And a boy's shirt tail out.

Not the dogwood trees, and bumble-bees,
Nor the tender buttercup;
But skinned shins, and scuffed-up knees.
And tousled hair stuck up.

With coats and sweaters here and there,
And boys gone out to play;
This is the sign that spring is here,
And the world is young and gay.

American wealth will vanish like steam,
The gold at Fort Knox be a toy,
If we should awake from a horrible dream,
And there be no American boy.

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