The ferns are uncurling, the hedgerows are gay
With wild roses as welcome as blossom of May.
The trees are swelled out
In the foliage of spring,
The cuckoo’s about
With its voice on the wing.
The morning has come, the churches pour forth
The battling of bells from the south to the north;
The peals from the belfries are merrily rung,
All hearts are rejoicing, all nature is young.