There are promise and pleasure and hope in the spring,
That beckon and reckon the future, I know.
The bud and the bee, swaying low on the lea;
The dove coming late to his nesting mate.
In a dream of ecstasy.

There are laughter and magic and joy in the spring,
That capture, enrapture my heart, I know.
A lilt on the breeze, that is toss’d by the trees,
Which doth for me weave like a thrush at eve
A song of ecstasy.

Ah! There are madness and gladness and nothing of sadness.
That will me and thrill me and fill me, I know.
Life and its weal are to give and to feel
The soul that can ache, the heart that can break
With a pain of ecstasy.