A baby joy is awake in my heart,
⁠And flutters her wings in song;
For now the wintry winds depart,
⁠And summer days are long.

The woods that late were cold and bare,
⁠With jocund babble ring;
Slides on still fans adown the air
⁠A bird too glad to sing.

O buoyant air! O joyous air!
⁠You thrill the weary throng,
As rhythmical with music rare,
And filled with sunlight everywhere,
⁠You touch our lips with song.