Was It the Voice of the Spring?

Was it the voice of the Spring or the voice of my love that called me
Out of the boughs of the birch-tree snowy with moonbeams?

Ah, it was sweet like the chant of a bee seeking honey,
Culling the nectar of dreams from a blossomy bosom!

Was it the face of the Spring or the face of my love that smiled on me,
Silvery pleading that swooned on the sea-scented breeze?

Ah, she was fair as a daffodil, golden, shimmering,
Her throat like a calyx woven of wonderful star-kisses!

Was it the Spring or my loved one that sang in the midnight?
Whose were the lips that I touched dewy with tears?
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