Spring is full of smells, and the poem begins by acknowledging that: the air carries many fragrances. But from all of them, the man in the poem picks just one. What he still adores, and the word "still" suggests this feeling has lasted, is the soft scent of his partner's hair when he holds her.
The poem is a single sentence, and it narrows as it goes, moving from the wide open air of the season to the small, close space of an embrace. That shift makes the moment feel private and tender. The speaker doesn't describe her face or say "I love you" outright. He simply tells us that her hair, in his arms, beats everything else the season offers.
The mood is gentle, warm and quietly romantic. Nothing dramatic happens. The poem celebrates a small, ordinary pleasure and suggests that real affection lives in details like this one.