Behold, my love, how green the groves,The primrose banks how fair;The balmy gales awake the flowers,And wave thy flowing hair.4
The lav’rock shuns the palace gay,And o’er the cottage sings:For Nature smiles as sweet, I ween,To Shepherds as to Kings.8
Let minstrels sweep the skilfu’ string,In lordly lighted ha’:The Shepherd stops his simple reed,Blythe in the birken shaw.12
The Princely revel may surveyOur rustic dance wi’ scorn;But are their hearts as light as ours,Beneath the milk-white thorn!16
The shepherd, in the flowery glen;In shepherd’s phrase, will woo:The courtier tells a finer tale,But is his heart as true!20
These wild-wood flowers I’ve pu’d, to deckThat spotless breast o’ thine:The courtiers’ gems may witness love,But, ’tis na love like mine.24