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Arthur Symons - The Coming Of Spring: Madrid
Work rating: Low

Spring is come back, and the little voices are calling, 
The birds are calling, the little green buds on the trees, 
A song in the street, and an old and sleepy tune; 
All the sounds of the spring are falling, falling, 
Gentle as rain, on my heart, and I hear all these 
As a sick man hears men talk from the heart of a swoon.
 
The clamours of spring are the same old delicate noises, 
The earth renews its magical youth at a breath, 
And the whole world whispers a well-known, secret thing; 
And I hear, but the meaning has faded out of the voices; 
Something has died in my heart: is it death or sleep? 
I know not, but I have forgotten the meaning of spring.
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