OVER the land is April,

Over my heart a rose;

Over the high, brown mountain

The sound of singing goes.

Say, love, do you hear me,

Hear my sonnets¹ ring?

Over the high, brown mountain,

Love, do you hear me sing?

By highway², love, and byway

The snows succeed the rose.

Over the high, brown mountain

The wind of winter blows.

Say, love, do you hear me,

Hear my sonnets ring?

Over the high, brown mountain

I sound the song of spring,

I throw the flowers of spring.

Do you hear the song of spring?

Hear you the songs of spring?

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