The earth is bright with splendour --

The winter winds are fled,

The winter snow is racing

Swift down the river bed;

The willow-buds are breaking,

The blue-bird whistles clear,

New green is on the hillside,

And Beauty trembles near.

. . . O Spring, why all this glory --

In shining pageant spread

When I hear the wounded moaning

And the fields are dyed with red. ...

The crocus-flowers are springing

And golden in the sun.

the trees are hung with blossoms,

And swift the streamlets run,

The love-note of the cuckoo

Floats on the quiet air,

The sky is like an opal

So luminous and fair.

. . . O Spring, why all this glory --

In shining pageant spread

When I hear the wounded moaning

And the fields are dyed with red. ...