When leaves begin to show their heads,
Before they reach their curly youth;
And birds in streams are coming north,
With seas of music from the south;

Then - like a snail with horns outstretched -
My senses feel the air around;
There's not a move escapes my eyes,
My ears are cocked to every sound.

Till Nature to her greenest comes,
And - with her may that blossoms white -
Bursts her full bodice, and reveals
Her fair white body in the light.