NOW is the time of year br When all the flutes begin, — br The redwing bold and clear, br The rainbird far and thin. br In all the waking lands br There's not a wilding thing br But knows and understands br The burden of the spring. br Now every voice alive br By rocky wood and stream br Is lifted to revive br The ecstasy, the dream. br For Nature, never old, br But busy as of yore, br From sun and rain and mould br Is making spring once more. br She sounds her magic note br By river-marge and hill, br And every woodland throat br Re-echoes with a thrill.