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It must be Spring ------I It must be Spring. Deep in the woods I see The pure pale primrose light the wakened dells, And, mingled with the shy anemone, Blue mists of drooping bells.
II It must be Spring. The lark leaps up the skies, Half mad with joy, and sings against the cloud; I hear the merry laugh of children rise Brokenly, low and loud.
III It must be Spring. I feel the evening breeze, Moist with the sweetness of new-fallen rain, Blow from the crimson sunset through the trees; And sink to rest again.