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.