Thy merry, rollicksome face to see.
Spring, Spring, O gentle Spring, why wast thou silent so long?
Why didst thou not answer my reverent call?
Goddess of mirth,
Gay queen of the earth,
Come forth, from glade or glen, from vale or hill, from bog or fen,
And flutter thy magical wand high over all.
But lo! now thou art come, with thy wonderful train,
Never so bright and never so gay.
Goddess of mirth,