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There is an itching in my heart
I cannot scratch---
A raging rash ravaging through
The depth of my soul
A burning fire in my spirit
I cannot control
A teasing urging of mind
Challenging the body to match;
As nature would have it
The winter of age has its season
That last for a while
Teaching the wisdom of her reason
Why spring comes with a smile:
Bringing vigor to the tree---
Moisture to the nest---
With her eau de vie---
Renewing old interest---
So when you hear the black swan singing
Its cooing song,
Know that love is about to run like a river
Meandering on;
Oh what a wonderful spring thing:
Arrows of silver for the golden quiver!
