It is the Spring!
And what could be
So sweet a thing
As early Spring
In Italy?
To make the boon more wondrous rare
You've caught the sunlight in your hair,
And, happy slave, it dances there.
To steal the splendour from the skies,
You draw their colour to your eyes,
Like deep blue lakes of Paradise.
It is the Spring!
And what could be
So sweet a thing
As early Spring
In Italy,
And you with me!