I rise up in de mornin’
Early in de spring,
And hear de bees a hummin’
An’ hear de robbins sing;
Th’re com’ o’er me a feelin’
So queer I know not why.
I jus’ sit down an’ listen,
It seem I ’most could cry;
The win’ has lost its biting,
Aroun’ de vine de bees,
The air is full o’ fragrance,
From blossom of the trees.
I stroll out in de garden,
An’ take a look about,
I see de ground’ a crackin’,
The seed has ’gun to sprout.
Beneath de vine a blossom,
All dried and curled it lies,
A striped little melon,
Is hangin’ ’fore my eyes.
Its den I ’gin a hummin’
And join de birds and sing,
My heart is full o’ rapture,
And grandeur of the spring.