Songs Of Shattering II

Let the little birds sing;
Let the little lambs play;
Spring is here; and so 'tis spring;--
But not in the old way!
I recall a place
Where a plum-tree grew;
There you lifted up your face,
And blossoms covered you.
If the little birds sing,
And the little lambs play,
Spring is here; and so 'tis spring--
But not in the old way!