All suddenly the wind comes soft,
— And Spring is here again;
And the hawthorn quickens with buds of green,
— And my heart with buds of pain.

My heart all Winter lay so numb,
— The earth so dead and frore,
That I never thought the Spring would come,
— Or my heart wake any more.

But Winter's broken and earth has woken,
— And the small birds cry again;
And the hawthorn hedge puts forth its buds,
— And my heart puts forth its pain.

All suddenly the wind comes soft,
— And Spring is here again;
And the hawthorn quickens with buds of green,
— And my heart with buds of pain.

My heart all Winter lay so numb,
— The earth so dead and frore,
That I never thought the Spring would come,
— Or my heart wake any more.

But Winter's broken and earth has woken,
— And the small birds cry again;
And the hawthorn hedge puts forth its buds,
— And my heart puts forth its pain.

All suddenly the wind comes soft,
— And Spring is here again;
And the hawthorn quickens with buds of green,
— And my heart with buds of pain.

My heart all Winter lay so numb,
— The earth so dead and frore,
That I never thought the Spring would come,
— Or my heart wake any more.

But Winter's broken and earth has woken,
— And the small birds cry again;
And the hawthorn hedge puts forth its buds,
— And my heart puts forth its pain.