With praise of the soft spring, and heavenly love—
’Twill suit our mood, if thou remember it.
Chorus.
The earth loveth the spring,
Nor of her coming despaireth,
Withheld by nightly sting,
Snow, and icy fling,
The snarl of the North:
But nevertheless she prepareth810
And setteth in order her nurselings to bring them forth,