It seems as if the land

Were breathing deep beneath the sun's caress,

Trembling with tenderness,

While all the woods expand,

In shimmering clouds of rose and gold and green,

To veil a joy too sacred to be seen.

III

 Come, put your hand in mine, True love, long sought and found at last, And lead me deep into the Spring divine That makes amends for all the wintry past. For all the flowers and songs I feared to miss Arrive with you; And in the lingering pressure of your kiss My dreams come true; And in the promise of your generous eyes I read the mystic sign Of joy more perfect made Because so long delayed, And bliss enhanced by rapture of surprise. Ah, think not early love alone is strong; He loveth best whose heart has learned to wait: Dear messenger of Spring that tarried long, You're doubly dear because you come so late.

Come, put your hand in mine,

True love, long sought and found at last,

And lead me deep into the Spring divine

That makes amends for all the wintry past.

For all the flowers and songs I feared to miss

Arrive with you;

And in the lingering pressure of your kiss

My dreams come true;

And in the promise of your generous eyes

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