I am happier for the Spring; br For my heart is like a bird br That has many songs to sing, br But whose voice is never heard br Till the happy year is caroling br To the daisies on the sward. br br I'd be happier for the Spring, br Though my heart had grown so old br Like a crone 'twould sit and sing br Its shrill runes of wintry cold; br For I'd know the year was caroling br To the daisies on the wold.