I'm as restless as a willow....

...in a wind storm
I'm as jumpy as a puppet on  a string
I'd say that I had spring fever
But I know it isn't spring.

I am starry eyed and vaguely discontented
Like a nightingale without a song to sing 
Oh, why should I have spring fever
When it isn't even spring?

I keep wishing I were somewhere else
Walking down a strange, new street
Hearing words that I have never heard
From a man I've yet to meet.

I'm as busy as a spider spinning daydreams
I'm as giddy as a baby on a swing
I haven't seen a crocus or a rosebud
Or a robin on the wing

But I feel so gay...in a melancholy way
That it might as well be spring.
It might as well be spring. 

(Rodgers and Hammerstein, 1945)