Cold and snow become flowers and greenery under her charming
    glance.

    As I slumber at night, I am waked by the sweet song of the
    nightingale; nothing but love in my mind quite thrilled by
    shudders of delight.

    God! could I be a swallow and sweep through the air, I would go
    at midnight to her little chamber.

  When I behold the lark up spring
  To meet the bright sun joyfully,
  How he forgets to poise his wing
  In his gay spirit’s revelry. 
  Alas! that mournful thoughts should spring
  E’en from that happy songster’s glee! 
  Strange that such gladdening sight should bring
  Not joy but pining care to me.

A very modern thought which calls to mind Theodore Storm’s touching lines after the death of his wife: 

    But this I cannot endure, that the sun smiles as before, clocks
    strike and bells ring as in thy lifetime, and day and night still
    follow each other.

He connects spring with love: 

  When grass grows green and fresh leaves spring
  And flowers are budding on the plain,
  When nightingales so sweetly sing
  And through the greenwood swells the strain,
  Then joy I in the song and in the flower,
  Joy in myself but in my lady more;
  All objects round my spirit turns to joy,
  But most from her my rapture rises high.

Arnold von Mareuil (about 1200) sings in the same way: 

  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: