I

The spring came flying from afar; With fresh desires all’s teeming; All things pressed forward to the sun-- So long all had been dreaming!

The finches flew out of their nest And children from their bowers, And on the meadows sweetest scents Breathe countless little flowers.

Young leaves press their way from the twigs And from birds’ throats their voices, And in the heart with budding love The youthful breast rejoices.