The earth a cheerless look still wears, But spring's breath is already swaying The dead stalks in the field and playing With boughs as yet of leafage bare. Though nature sleeps, through its dull slumber, Through dreams that slowly fade away, It hears spring's airy step and gay, And, happy, smiles at the newcomer... O soul, my soul, you slumbered too... What is it that, your sleep disturbing, Fills you with warmth and tender yearning And gilds your tarnished dreams anew? The thawing snows lie sparkling under The sparkling sky: no clouds above. My hot blood plays... Is it the languor Of springtime or - a woman's love?..