Now when the first wild violets peer

All rain-filled at blue April skies,

As on one smiles one's sweetheart dear

With the big teardrops in her eyes:

Now when the May-apples, I wis,

Bloom white along lone, greenwood creeks,

As bashful as the cheeks you kiss,

As waxen as your sweetheart's cheeks:

Within the soul what longings rise

To stamp the town-dust from the feet!

Fare forth to gaze in Spring's clean eyes,

And kiss her cheeks so cool and sweet!