With color blooms the meadow green;
Upon the hedgerows buds are seen,
And daily I remarked new flow'rings
On soft bright days of heavenly show'rings.
I knew not, how it came to me,
Nor how all this had come to be.

And ever darker the wood grew,
The realm of merry warblers, too--
Their carols drew me down the ways
Where tuneful sound in sweet mist plays.
I knew not, how it came to me,
Nor how all this had come to be.

It stirred and flowered all around
With color, life, and scent, and sound--
They seemed all gladly to combine
That lovely visions might be mine.
I knew not, how it came to me,
Nor how all this had come to be.

I thought then: doth a ghost awake,
Who all things so alive doth make
And with a thousand blooming wares
His very soul before us bares?
I knew not, how it came to me,
Nor how all this had come to be.

 ... 

And as I stood and wondered so,
I felt a mighty stirring grow.
A friendly maid came wandering hence
And overwhelmed my every sense.
I knew not, how it came to me,
Nor how all this had come to be.

 ... 

The wood from daylight kept us free.
It is the Spring, it seemed to me.
In short, on Earth I came to learn
Men rise to gods in their own turn.
Well knew I, how it came to me
And how all this had come to be.