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THE SEASONS IN ITALY.
Spring.
I.
A breezeless flutter in the air,
A murmured warbling in the ear,
A sense of gladness everywhere,
Of brooding wings which hover near.
A murmured warbling in the ear,
A sense of gladness everywhere,
Of brooding wings which hover near.
II.
A pulse which thrills, a hope which wakes,
As youth and hope and love grow strong,
As each hushed rill its silence breaks
And stirs the woodland into song.
As youth and hope and love grow strong,
As each hushed rill its silence breaks
And stirs the woodland into song.
III.
A voice which whispers, Spring is born,
In tender buddings of the leaves,
In tender buddings of the leaves,
