I walk and I wonder To hear the birds sing; Without you, my lady, How can there be Spring? I see the pink blossoms That slept for a year, But who could have waked them While you were not near? Birds sing to the blossoms, Blind, dreaming your pink; These blush to the songsters, Your music they think: So well had you taught them To look and to sing, Your bloom and your music, The ways of the Spring. |