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!