When spring comes
In all green things that grow
A new pulse of life beats warmly on the glow
Long are the golden days
So fragrant and moist
The gentle zephyrs blow
Why should the flowers alone make haste to go?
So swift to depart from us who love them so
When spring comes
In all green things that grow
A new pulse of life beats warmly on the glow
Long are the golden days
So fragrant and moist
The gentle zephyrs blow
Why should the flowers alone make haste to go?
So swift to depart from us who love them so