Over The Land Is April

                       

                              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 sonnets ring?
                              Over the high, brown mountain,
                              Love, do you hear me sing?

                              By highway, 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?

                                               Robert Louis Stevenson