They Say It's Spring Live

When I was young, I lived in a world Of dreams, of moods and myth and Illusionary schemes. Though now I'm much more grownup, 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 heart's sympathetic, It's merely spring, then poets' Plights are pathetic, though I'm poetic, Too. They say it's spring. For lovers, that's where the lure is. That evil thing For which September the cure is, This they are sure it's 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 called me darling, I thought we knew that it wasn't spring. No, it wasn't spring. It wasn't spring. It was you. It was you.