Page:A Book of Czech Verse.pdf/43



The Spring is coming, coming, Once more it will be May, Upon the smiling meadows The smiling sun will play. From mountain-side the river Its silver waves will bring, The rose will be in blossom, The nightingale will sing.

The melting ice will scatter, The current freely glide, Upon the murmuring wavelets The ships will proudly ride. The flowers will richly blossom, The ears spring from the ground, The ringing scythe will echo, A song of joy will sound.

The linden tree its branches In greenness will array, Its boughs will give us leafage To make our garlands gay. Then shout for joy, my country, On fields the sun will play. The Spring is coming, coming, Once more we shall have May.