I have some delightful news; the flowers are sprouting on the heath, the birds singing in the wood. Where snow lay before, there is now green clover, bedewed in the morning. Who will may enjoy it. No one forces me to, I am not free from cares.
and elsewhere:
At the time when flowers and grass come to us, all that made my heart sad will be made good again.
The loss of the beauty of summer makes him sad:
Since the bright sunlight has changed to cold, and the little birds have left off singing their song, and cold nights have faded the foliage of the lime, my heart is sad.
Ulrich von Guotenberg makes a pretty comparison:
She is my summer joy, she sows flowers and clover
In my heart's meadow, whence I, whate'er befall,
Must teem with richer bliss: the light of her eyes
Makes me bloom, as the hot sun the dripping trees....