1. The hyacinth and daffodil are shining in the bed;
Untouched upon the window sill, the robin leaves his bread.
Soft breezes o’er the common blow, the copses bud again.
The streams are flushed with melting snow and early falling rain.
The cuckoos and the thrushes sing,
The spring, the spring !
2. The sun has gone, the last warm ray is fading on the lea;
The crocus closing with the day, ensnares the laden bee.
Pale mists along the meadows lie, the beetle takes his flight;
The black rooks wander o’er the sky and call the hour of night.