O! how sweet the breeze of April Breathing soft, as May draws near, While through nights serene and gentle Songs of gladness meet the ear. Every bird his well-known language Warbling in the morning's pride, Revelling on in joy and gladness By his happy partner's side.... With such sounds of bliss around me, Who could wear a saddened heart? He calls his lady-love The fairest creature which Nature has produced here below, fairer than I can express and faker than a beautiful May day, than sunshine in March, shade in summer, than May roses, April rain, the flower of beauty, mirror of love, the key of Fame. Bertran de Born too sings: The beautiful spring delights me well When flowers and leaves are growing, And it pleases my heart to hear the swell Of the bird's sweet chorus flowing In the echoing wood, etc. The Greek lyrists up to Alexandrian times contented themselves with implying indirectly that nothing delighted them so much as May and its delights; but these singers implicitly state it. The German Minnesingers too[8] are loud in praise of spring, as in that anonymous song: I think nothing so good nor worthy of praise As a fair rose and my good man's love; The song of the little birds in the woods is clear to many a heart. and summer is greeted with: The good are glad that summer comes. See what a benefit it is to many hearts. The Troubadour motive is here too: Winter and snow seem as beautiful flowers and clover to me, when I have embraced her. and Kürenberg makes a lady sing: When I stand there alone in my shift and think of thee, noble knight, I blush like a rose on its thorn. Delight in summer, complaint of winter--this is the fundamental chord struck again and again; there is scarcely any trace of blending the feelings of the lover with those of Nature. It is a monotonous repetition of a few themes, of flowers and little birds as messengers of love, and lady-loves who are brighter than the sun, whose presence brings spring in winter or cheers a grey and snowy day. Deitmar von Eist greets spring with: Ah! now the time of the little birds' singing is coming for us, the great lime is greening, the long winter is past, one sees well-shaped flowers spread their glory over the heath. 'Tis a joy to many hearts, and a comfort too to mine. In another song the birds and roses remind him of a happy past and of the lady of his heart. A little bird sang on the lime o'erhead, Its song resounded through the wood And turned my heart back to another place; And once again I saw the roses blow, And they brought back the many thoughts I cherish of a lady. A lady says to a falcon: You happy falcon you! You fly whither you will! And choose the tree you like in the wood. I have done the same. I chose a husband For myself, whom my eyes chose. So 'tis fitting for beautiful women. In winter he complains: