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I wandered in the well-known path,
The sky was bright and blue,
The trees were clad in freshest green,
The sunlight streaming through.


The nightingales were singing loud
Their love-songs from the vale,
The purling brooklet, as it flowed
Seemed chanting a sweet tale.


O whence this gladness in the air?
And wherefore do ye sing?
The little birds were answering me:--
"Rejoice, for it is spring!"


Rejoice, for it is spring! I cried;
Rejoice for all the year!
For winter too--there is no death
In Nature--have no fear!


And joying thus for all the year,
More joyful could I sing
Than bird, or brooklet flowing by:
"Rejoice, for it is spring!"