It is when the trees have such radiant flowers,
Such white and rosy showers,
Such fragrant whispering,—
It is when the sun lights such mellow, yellow hours,—
For lovers love the Spring!
It is when the moon is so pale and drifting,
Blossoms softly sifting
From the vines that climb and cling,
That my heart will stop to hear love's laughter lifting,—
For lovers love the Spring!
It is when the long evenings, their haze of violet wearing,
Hold the passing voices as on music's throbbing string,
By some vague open window I shall sit long staring,—
For lovers love the Spring!