| And suddenly the wind comes soft, | |
| And Spring is here again; | |
| And the hawthorn quickens with buds of green | 3 |
| And my heart with buds of pain. |
| My heart all Winter lay so numb, | |
| The earth so dead and frore, | 6 |
| That I never thought the Spring would come again | |
| Or my heart wake any more. |
| But Winter's broken and earth has woken, | 9 |
| And the small birds cry again; | |
| And the hawthorn hedge puts forth its buds, | |
| And my heart puts forth its pain. | 12 |