Classic Poem

Die Wälder und Felder grünen

There's green on the meadow and river;
The lark seeks a loftier height;
And Spring has come in with a quiver
Of perfume and color and light.

The lark's song has opened the prison
Of winter-moods, stubborn and strong;
Yet out of my heart has arisen
A fragment of sorrowful song.

The lark's all a-twitter and cheery:
" Oh, what makes your singing so drear? "
The song is an old one, my dearie,
I've sung it for many a year.

'Tis the same ballad, no other,
With its burden of sorrowful rhymes —
Why, darling, your own grandmother
Has heard it a score of times!