When a song is in the wind And the sapling whispereth As a child will catch its breath, Telling good news long confined, Then I know the spring is come And its hosts with full accord Soon will praise the sun, their Lord, In a mild delirium. Once again the high-arched door Of life's vernal temple swings Open, and gay blossomings Strew its green mosaic floor; Once again the choristers Of the erst chill solitudes Pipe their anthems in the woods, Filled with humble worshipers. Ah, I know that life is fair When the sigh of spring is heard, And my lonely heart is stirred By the music echoed there! But I know that love is blind, For I still may not rejoice— No! I miss a loved one's voice When a song is in the wind. |