The Joy of the Springtime

Springtime, O Springtime, what is your essence. The lilt of a bulbul, the laugh of a rose, The dance of the dew on the wings of a moonbeam. The voice of the zephyr that sings as he goes. The hope of a bride or the dream of a maiden Watching the petals of gladness unclose ?

Springtime, O Springtime, what is your secret. The bliss at the core of your magical mirth. That quickens the pulse of the morning to wonder And hastens the seeds of all beauty to birth. That captures the heavens and conquers to blossom The roots of delight in the heart of the earth ?