TREASURE TROVE I've got some buried treasures More precious far than gold, No thieves can come and steal them, They're ever-new, yet old. I count my treasures daily As Midas counts his hoard, And soon I will exhibit My extraordinary store. All Winter they've been sleeping Buried deep in darkest soil, Now above the earth they're peeping Rich reward for little toil. They will blossom forth like jewels In their frames of tender green, For my treasures are all masterpieces Fashioned by a Hand unseen. When I see their smiling faces My heart will start to sing, For I know that they'll be saying 'It's Spring, it's Spring, it's Spring.' -- Ena O'ROURKE, "Extended Wings 4," Rathmines Writers (Swan Press/1998).