Wine, No. 13

Vernal hours are sweet as clover, With love's honey running over; Every heart on this earth burning Finds new birth with spring's returning.

In the spring-time blossoms flourish, Fields drink moisture, heaven's dews nourish; Now the griefs of maidens, after Dark days, turn to love and laughter.

Whoso love, are loved, together Seek their pastime in spring weather; And, with time and place agreeing, Clasp, kiss, frolic, far from seeing.