Primavera

Grim winter chilled the spirit, fog has bound the mind,

till Spring with his swift fingers  loose the bonds that bind,

and Cupid, shooting love-shafts,  couples  kind to kind,

--thén will I mend, thén will I wend, thén will I

  wóo

      you.

Springtime creams to summer,  the sap is in the trees,
so golden as the honey  of the dreaming bees,
all lost within the buzzing  of the brimming breeze,

--when summer's sped, then would I wed, be wedded

  tó

    you.