Full Lyrics
Within the woods is deep repose,
A hidden silent dwelling,
A gentle breeze within them blows,
The tender shoots are swelling.
It asks an ear of finest mould,
An eye of keenest glances,
To catch the voices manifold,
To mark how Spring advances.
A sound which dripping bells renew,
Is through the stillness breaking,
As if the chaliced drops of dew
A tinkling fall were making.
A low mysterious organtone
Comes softly while we listen,
As if from sunbeams voiceful grown'
While through the leaves they glisten.
Strokes as of axes sound apart,
Now near, and now retreating,
As if the mountain's might heart
At Spring's return were beating.
