When I was young I lived in a world of dreams Of moods and myths and illusionary schemes Though now I'm much more grown up I fear that I must own up To the fact that I'm in doubt of What the modern cynics shout of They say it's spring This feeling light as a feather They say this thing This magic we share together Came with the weather too They say it's May That's made me daft as a daisy It's May, they say That gave the whole world this crazy Heavenly, hazy hue I'm a lark on the wing I'm the spark of a firefly's fling Yet to me this must be Something more than a seasonal thing Could it be spring Those bells that I can hear ringing It may be spring But when the robins stop singing You're what I'm clinging to Though they say it's spring, it's you If poets sing That when a hard sympathetic It's merely spring Then poets plights are pathetic Though I'm poetic too They say it's spring For lovers, there's where the lure is That evil thing For which September the cure is This they are sure is true Though I know that it's so That my fancy may turn in the spring With the right one in sight One can find a perpetual thing Did I need spring To bring the ring that you bought me Though it was spring That wondrous day that you caught me Darling I thought we knew That it wasn't spring, it was you
